


Love me Dead

by Squikkums, The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood, Blood Play, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possessive Morty, Protective Rick, Safewords, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vampire Morty, Vampirism, so much pining, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squikkums/pseuds/Squikkums, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments when Morty seemed truly dangerous to Rick were few and far between when the boy had been human, and Rick was grateful for that, but now.. Now Morty was all barely leashed violence and power, and Rick doubted that, if Morty had truly wanted it, he could've stopped the teen from killing him. </p><p>Or worse, sinking those fangs into his flesh and taking what they both wanted. </p><p>Canon divergence from Big Trouble in Little Sanchez wherein Rick doesn’t transfer his consciousness into a younger clone of himself to slay the vampire and Morty pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are again, Sinners! (Hi all you beautiful people! ^^) Welcome to the beginning of a very long, very drawn out, incredibly slow burn (Yeah baby, 70k words and counting, you know you love it!) fic about these two idiots who are so painfully in love! I can’t believe we’re finally getting this out there! There will, of course, be a bit of jump back and forth because this is an RP between myself and the breathtakingly brilliant Squikkums/SqkandMorty (Aww, shucks.), with her as Rick and me as Morty! (The best, sunshiniest Morty you ever did see.) I would also like to dedicate this fantastic (Wow, humble much?) work to the exquisitely wonderful Libby Love (WubbaLubbaDubSub on Tumblr) who was supportive every step of the way and encouraged more than a few ideas in her own way. Enjoy Sinners! - Clair (and Sqk)

Morty sat at the dining room table, so tired he was barely awake, repetitiously scooping bite after bite of cereal into his mouth as he tried to prepare for the school day ahead. Math test third period, Pacer exam in gym, mashed potatoes for lunch. The teen yawned and glanced over towards Rick, wishing, not for the first time that morning, that his grandpa would snag him from school for an adventure. 

An overly upbeat voice dragged Morty from the longing daydream and he looked over at his dad as the older man played around on his tablet, “So, what’s new at school?”

The curly haired boy immediately replied, "Nothing." out of reflex before remembering the brief announcement from the day before, "Oh! One of the lunch ladies died." 

Morty looked back at his cereal, regretting the fact that he'd let it get soggy before pushing the bowl away, "They uh, found her in the gym, w-with like, two holes in her neck and all her blood missing."

"Good lord! Who does something like that?" Beth chimed in as she came back into the room.

Rick glanced up from his breakfast as his daughter spoke, more interested in nursing his typical morning hangover than the inane conversation going on around him. "Obviously a vampire. W-wh-where's the pepper?" He said with a little eye roll, only to have Summer jump in asking if vampires were real, like this was some big shocker.   
"Yes, Summer, vampires are real. Who knew? Oh, right, only all of humanity, for hundreds of years now." He laid the sarcasm on thick, giving up on finishing his breakfast for now and leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

Immediately hyped by the sound of Rick's rumbling voice and the chance to speak up, Morty flashed an almost smug smile, leaning against the table as he turned towards his sister, "Yeah, Summer, it's a big universe. G-get used to it!" 

The boy eagerly turned back towards Rick, his enthusiasm and desire for praise and recognition not diminished in the least by the dark circles under the older man's eyes or the way he leaned over his breakfast in an obviously hungover pose, "R-right, Rick?"

The scientist looked down at Morty, a nonplussed expression on his face as the boy pandered along to his words. He didn't justify that non-thought with an answer, but he couldn't help the little quirk of a smile ticking up one corner of his mouth before he looked away again. The kid was just so blatant; he tried so hard.

The teen in the yellow shirt deflated the slightest bit when Rick didn't react to his comment, completely oblivious to the twitch of Rick's lips, and then reached for a piece of toast, munching it thoughtfully.   
"Well, what are we going to do?!" Was Summer's next question, and Rick sighed, answering that one too. "We're gonna live our lives until we die. Possibly by vampire. More likely auto accident or heart disease, but possibly vampire." 

His response was clipped; he didn't really want to deal with this. Rick just wanted to eat breakfast and go get lost in his work until Morty came home and started wandering around the garage and touching things he shouldn't, blathering on distractingly like he always did and like Rick would never say he looked forward to.

Morty listened to the exchange with a slight frown. His grandpa sounded tired, borderline irritated and, though Morty was still interested, he could tell Rick was tired of talking about vampires. His grandfather wasn't generally a morning person, unless his Mom made pancakes, and since she hadn't, Rick was grumpily hungover like always. 

Taking a sip of juice, Morty nearly cringed when Summer opened her mouth, voice brimming with barely contained excitement. "Grandpa Rick, couldn't you, like, I don't know, figure out who the vampire is and the, like, sneak up on it and impale the blood sucker with a stake or something?!" 

Even Morty, who was guilty of vocalizing more than a fair share of ridiculous ideas, was amused by the absurdity of her question, "Umm... Wow, Summer."

Rick seemed to share his sentiment because the older man was quickly responding, voice tinged with a mocking undertone that wasn’t disguised in the least, "Yeah, come on, Summer. Do I look like a ditzy high school girl in an impractically short skirt angsting over my destiny to you?”

While Rick snarked at his sister Morty sat quietly, staring down into the soggy loner corn flakes floating around in the bowl of lukewarm milk as he munched down the final bite of his toast and downed the last of his juice.

“What do I care if- if there's a vampire running around eating lunch ladies? I'm b-  _ urp- _ busy. Why aren't you more ashamed of yourself for asking that?" Rick continued, waving one hand as if to dismiss the entire idea before he crossed his arms again and glared, knowing he was taking his pounding headache out on Summer but not really caring.

As the scientist wound down Morty stood and grabbed his dishes, taking them to the kitchen and dumping them in the sink before Rick could find any reason to rip into him as well. 

"Bye Mom, Dad. Later, Rick!" Morty scooped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, sparing the genius one last look and a small smile before rushing out the door towards school, but his smile was fleeting, becoming more and more of a frown with each step he took towards the place of his torment.

 

* * *

 

Rick's mood had deteriorated rapidly as soon as Morty had run off, and his morning had gone with it. 

It was hours later and he was just now getting back from dropping Beth and her idiot off at their couples counselling. He never should've gone in with them, should've just dropped them straight out of the ship and flown off, but Beth had been resting her hand on his shoulder and thanking him for looking after the kids while they were gone and he’d had a moment of weakness. 

That moment had cost him hours of his time before he could escape the paperwork and hoops of signing the two of them in and Rick was desperate for a drink. He ached to soothe the pounding in his head and drown out the depressing memories of his own failed marriage that were always close at hand when Beth and Jerry got particularly vicious with each other. 

Landing the ship in the garage and slamming the door behind him with a cringe and a curse at the sound, Rick started digging around on his desk until he unearthed a bottle and gulped down enough of it to dull the world. 

_ Fuck me, how could this day get any worse? _

 

* * *

 

At school, Morty wasn't fairing much better. 

Paranoia plagued the teen, forcing him to look over his shoulder at every turn, terrified that he'd be snuffed out and eaten by a vampire. At the breakfast table he'd wished more than anything that Summer would drop it and just let Rick enjoy his breakfast in peace, but as the moments ticked on Morty found himself wishing more and more that he would have had the balls to insist that Rick do something about a blood sucking immortal in his school who was apparently content to snack on the staff. 

Luckily though, all that was left for the day was gym and then he'd be free to go home and hesitantly insist that Rick get rid of the danger. However, as Morty set foot on the shiny wood basketball court, looking over at the coach, he couldn’t help but to notice how  _ healthy _ the other man looked. 

Not two days ago his skin had been sallow, almost sickly, like he'd had the flu for years and years, and now.. The teacher was healthy and pink. Fleshy. Normal looking, and Morty could tell that he wasn't the only one who noticed. Students kept casting him looks, whispering about plastic surgery and make up, but the longer Morty thought about it the more he thought that the other man was something far more sinister than vain. 

The hour dragged on, and though Morty ran and ran, pushing himself harder, he knew, without a doubt, that his heart was beating fast and relentless from fear more than exertion. He could feel it, making his sweat sour and disgusting, reeking with his terror, and Morty was never more thankful to hear the bell than he was in that moment. Quickly making his way to the locker room’s bathrooms, Morty sat in a stall and locked it, pulling his legs up on the toilet as he waited for the others to disperse before he called Rick, listening as it rang and rang, his terror growing with every second as he prayed for Rick to answer.

But the phone rang out, going to voicemail.

Because at that very moment Rick had been pulling into the garage, phone sitting innocently on the desk, inaudible to the scientist. It had stopped mere moments before Rick opened the ship door, slamming it and sending him hunting for a bottle of booze. It was enough of a distraction that he wouldn't realise he'd missed a call until it beeped for attention after the voicemail message timed out on Morty's phone.

At the sound of Rick's gag voicemail, Morty almost cried, muscles tense, but as soon as the beep sounded Morty was whispering urgently, "Rick, Rick I need you! I think my coach is a vampire and I'm in the lockers and I'm afraid, Rick," 

The teen's voice broke with fear and for the first time he didn't care if Rick ended up making fun of him, tears pooling in his eyes and making his voice thick, "Please Rick, please. Come get me, I don't --" 

The boy's urgent voice was suddenly cut off by a scream of absolute terror as the stall door was ripped from its hinges, exposing the horrific sight of his coach, fangs exposed, eyes glowing with predatory intent and Morty screamed Rick's name in pure, blind and desperate fear, using all his adventure skills to rip out of the stall, ducking under the vampire's arm and making a sprint towards the door. It wasn't enough. 

The creature grabbed him by the back of his collar, jerking him savagely to the ground, and Morty cried out as his head slammed into the wet tile. Momentarily dazed, all the teen could do was gasp for help, but that sound immediately turned into another shrill cry of fear when the vampire was suddenly on him. There was agony, white hot pain, as the creature above tore into his neck. Awkward limbs failed and Morty bit the monster as hard as he could, gagging when the beast's thick blood flooded his mouth, his cries becoming gargles through the liquid. His muscles refused to work as his coach drained him dry right there with his phone still open and recording less than a foot away.

 

* * *

 

In the garage, Rick finally heard the sharp trill of his phone, playing a recording of Birdperson’s voice that he'd had for years. Rick had wasted a bet getting Pers to yell 'voicemail' for him, and he still got a kick out of it most of the time, but this morning he just rolled his eyes and took another drink before bothering to listen.

"If that's Jerry wanting to come home already.." The scientist muttered to himself as he played the message on speaker, but his words trailed off as he heard Morty's voice. 

Rick stood frozen, staring down at the phone in his hand, heart clenched and forgetting to breathe as he heard the terror in his grandson's voice, the way it broke over his words as he begged for Rick to come get him. 

But when Morty screamed Rick went into a flurry of motion, dropping the phone on the desk and darting across the room. The snarls and scuffles of a struggle played in the background, punctuated by a heartbreaking cry of his name as Rick snatched up a wood-handled broom and stepped on it sharply, shattering the long handle and leaving it with a jagged point. He kept a tight grip on the weapon as he reached into his lab coat for his portal gun. 

In the background he was still listening to Morty -- Rick swallowed back bile and shot a portal to the boy's locker room at Morty's school. 

_ Listening to Morty die, you're listening to him die! _

Rick’s mind screamed the words at him as he leapt through to the sight of a monster bent over his grandson's body, snarling and bleeding and  _ feeding _ . 

Rick snarled as well and dove across the intervening space, pulling the vampire's head back away from Morty's throat by the hair and tumbling end over end as his momentum carried them crashing into the tile wall of the showers.

A brief, vicious scuffle followed, but Rick's fury and desperation to get to Morty gave him the edge over the monster, and he pinned the bigger body of the vampire to the ground, slamming the broom handle down into the blood soaked chest below him with a grunt. 

Rick's knees hit cold, damp tile as the body of Morty's gym coach dissolved into dust beneath him and he'd tossed the makeshift stake away from and and was scrambling across the room in another instant. In the sudden silence he could hear the gurgled, wet sound of Morty struggling to breathe, and nothing in the world mattered to him more than that.

 

* * *

 

_ It was over, finally over. _

Just beyond, Morty could hear the sounds of fighting, the animalistic snarls, the grunts of effort. It was the sound of Rick fighting for him and Morty found himself choked up by that knowledge. Rick would always come for him. Tears dripped from the corners of his eyes, not from the physical pain but from the knowledge that there was finally somebody out there that loved him enough to fight for him. 

When silence fell like a pall over the locker room Morty tried to call out to Rick, to ask him to be there, through the gaping wound in his throat. He could tell that it was practically torn out, could feel the unpleasant spreading of blood as it gushed before starting to slow, and he knew. 

This wouldn't be like last time. 

There would be no magical serum to save his broken body. There was only what was left, only the brief moment between life and death, and Morty wanted Rick. He wanted to see Rick's face, to see that gentle look Rick only gave him when he was hurt, but all that would come out was a gargle and a whisper, Rick's name barely audible. He reached up weakly, using the last of his strength to try and alert Rick, to get his attention because, whether Morty wanted to admit it or not, he was  _ afraid _ .

 

* * *

 

Rick skidded to his knees at Morty's head, pulling the boy into his lap against every iota of medical knowledge he had that told him not to move him when he was this hurt, and pressed one hand firmly and uselessly against the gaping, bleeding mess of his grandson's neck. His other hand trembled as it combed through the boy's hair, smearing Morty's blood through his soft curls. 

He knew that his hand was doing little to stem the steady, slowing pump of blood that spilled out between his fingers, that Morty's heart was working overtime to kill him faster, trying desperately to move oxygen throughout his body and only hastening the inevitable. He knew that, but he couldn't accept it. 

"Morty.. S-st-stay with me.. I've- I've got you.." 

_ Useless words, useless actions.. He was too fucking late, too busy to come deal with this, too goddamn selfish to make sure that Morty's school was safe, or even that he had his fucking phone with him. And his.. his grandson was.. _

Rick choked back a sob and watched as a tear splashed onto Morty's cheek, tracking through the blood there and leaving a pale trail of skin behind. His gaze darted away to Morty's wound, to his eyes and back, and then down to his lips when the boy parted them to speak.

 

* * *

 

Beyond all the pain, the numbness that spread slowly but surely through his limbs, beyond the fire in his throat and fear of dying or the urge to cling to life and never let go, Morty felt calm. Rick was holding him, cradling his body and it felt good. 

There was love there, sorrow, and for a brief moment Morty felt bad that Rick had to see him this way, that his grandfather had to hold his throat closed and watch him bleed out on the floor. But as Morty felt a single drop of wetness land on his cheek, as he looked up, eyes glassy and nearly unfocused, into Rick's tearful, panic stricken eyes, Morty felt his heart drop. 

_ Rick was crying over him.  _

It made the pounding organ clench, and, dragging up the very last of his strength from the deepest part of his soul, Morty opened his mouth, lips trembling with exertion and whispered, "I love you, Rick. Y-you --" the boy coughed, the pain ripping him apart from the inside out, but he didn't stop; he knew he didn't have time to stop. "You made it all worth it." 

Morty blindly reached out and, somehow, managed to find Rick's free hand, holding it tightly, feeling the lengthy fingers, the warmth, the calluses from years of hard work clinging to bony joints, "100 years, Rick. Rick and Morty. It's just," Morty felt his heart slow and he struggled to get it out, to use his last breath and make it worthwhile, to say what he needed to say, what he needed Rick to know, "Just Rick and Morty and their adventures." 

Morty stared up into Rick's face, desperate to memorize it, all the details he loved, from Rick's insanely blue eyes to the curve of his mouth, the dark circles under his eyes and the strength of his jaw. The sight meant everything to him and as Morty's eyes became heavy, unable to stay open, he didn't hesitate to admit to himself that he was glad Rick was the last thing that he'd see in this world. 

Rick was the only thing really worth seeing anyway.

 

* * *

 

Rick couldn't act, couldn't breathe, couldn't  _ think _ . 

He was watching Morty struggle to hold on, to force himself to speak.. to, with his very last breath, offer him some small comfort and Rick was just huddled uselessly over him. He was frozen in place with his eyes darting restlessly over Morty's face; with one hand he still tried futilely to keep his grandson from bleeding out, his other clinging to Morty’s own hand with a detached, desperate grip.

It was only when the light faded from his grandson's eyes, the beauty and life and irrepressible vitality that had always infused them draining away to blank, dead nothingness and slipping half closed, that Rick's world spun back into motion, too late to do anything but pull Morty up against his chest and choke on his tears. 

But even in the depths of his agony and loss Rick's mind was still ticking over the past few moments, connecting facts and fleeting images, and one thing kept coming to mind. 

Morty's teeth had been bloody when he'd whispered to him.. gory, even. 

Rick loosened his hold on the boy and detachedly examined the wound on his neck, confirming to himself that his esophagus hadn't been punctured by the vicious bite. But Morty's body had no wounds that were indicative of internal bleeding at all, and yet there had been blood in his mouth. 

Of course, there was blood everywhere. Rick was covered in it, and the horror of that thought threatened to drag him back down into his catatonic, unthinking stillness once more, so he started gently petting his fingers through Morty's hair again as he forced himself to think clinically and methodically about what had happened since he'd come through the portal. 

He was nearly certain that he'd seen a wound on the vampire's neck in the instant before he had staked the fucker.. Rick concentrated, trying to remember clearly, rather than lying to himself, and finally decided that it hadn't just been Morty's blood sluicing down the vampire's chest. 

Rick took a slow, shaky breath, and then another and another until the trembling in his limbs finally calmed, and then he searched around for his portal gun, reaching for it without releasing his hold on his grandson and then gently hitching Morty's body into his arms and shooting a portal directly into the bunker he'd built under the garage. He had research to do, and a lot of work, before Morty woke up. 

And he would wake up. 

Rick wouldn't be able to handle anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So excited to put chapter two out there! Squikkums and I decided that we would probably do weekly updates so that we have time to edit and stuff and don't have to rush between chapters. So here we are! Sunday postings will probably become a regular thing(: 
> 
> Don't worry though darlings! Morty couldn't stay dead for long(: What kind of vampire story would that be anyway? I'll tell you what kind. A bad one. Lol, we just couldn't bear to do that to our cute and adorable lil bun, so, fear not! 
> 
> Enjoy the addition and please let us know what you think(: 
> 
> Xo,   
> Clair and Sqk <3

Morty waited. 

He waited for something to happen, for his consciousness to fade away, for the light near the end of the tunnel to appear, for the gates of Heaven or the depths of Hell, something. But there was nothing. Just pure, absolute blackness. 

But even that wasn't accurate. 

It wasn't even black, not really, it was just sheer unfathomable emptiness. There was nothing to connect it to any part of his human life, no sounds, no smells, no hint of any sort of life or movement, nothing but an unnaturally silent void that stretched on for eternity. 

He wanted to escape, somehow, but he had no arms, no legs, no physical representation of his body or anything to resort to in his quest for escape. He was just trapped, trapped within his own consciousness.  Panic spread through the brunet’s body like disease, ravaging all that it touched. His mind had become a prison, a prison that he couldn't touch or taste or feel and no matter how he tried, the teen couldn't escape the feeling that with each passing second he was going to lose himself, that maybe he would be trapped within the darkness forever, that death was really just nothingness, an expanse of lonely eternity. 

But within his mind, where he imagined his body would be, Morty could feel an itching inside his chest. It was uncomfortable, unpleasant, growing with each second and if the teen had hands they would have been clawing at his skin. It felt as though a swarm of insects had taken residence within his heart, as though a horde of ants were crawling through his veins, settling their colony in the pit of his heart. It was agonizing, spreading through his metaphorical body faster than he could have imagined. In a mere fraction of a second everything was on fire and Morty was screaming into the void, shattering the silence with his own anguish, his own pain and his heart was beating faster than possible, slamming inside his chest at speeds that should have killed a person, but Morty was already dead. 

He knew that. 

But it wouldn't stop. 

The pace was getting faster and faster, pushing the static through his body at incomprehensible speeds and when Morty thought that he couldn't take another second, another single heartbeat, the organ stopped and he was thrown back into his physical body. Morty jerked up, gasping and letting out an earsplitting and utterly inhuman shriek, eyes wide and panicked as he clawed at his own throat, unable to even process where he was or what was happening, unable to think past the desperate need for something to drink, for something to quench the fire and still the metaphorical insects ravaging his body.

 

* * *

 

Rick had spent the first few hours after Morty's death mostly just sitting next to his body and trying not to think. 

The first thing he'd done was clean the poor kid up, getting rid of his gore coated shirt and the pants he'd lost control of his bladder in when he'd died, washing away the blood that was caked and tacky on his skin, then dressing him in one of his own spare sweaters and a pair of boxers, unwilling to leave Morty alone even just to run upstairs to the kid's room for a change of clothes. 

But that only took about fifteen minutes, and then Rick was left just sitting on the couch, with Morty laid out next to him, head resting against a folded blanket in his lap so he couldn't feel the heat draining out of his grandson’s body, and pretending that the boy was just sleeping. 

Perhaps he was, sort of. 

Rick had come back to himself hours later rather suddenly when he'd reached out to run his fingers through Morty's hair again and felt how.. how  _ cold _ his grandson was. 

Morty didn't look like he was sleeping; he looked like a corpse. His eyes wouldn't close all the way, his lips were bloodless, pale and parted, and he was far too still. Rick shuddered and closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow again for a few minutes before he looked back down with a disconnected, passionless focus. 

The boy looked dead, yes, but newly so. 

Rick reached out for one thin arm and lifted it up, feeling the pliability there, the ease of movement. Rigor mortis should have set in by now, but Morty's body was malleable still. And he didn't smell like death. Rick gently peeled back the bandage he'd covered Morty's throat with and examined the wound carefully, deciding that it looked smaller than it had before. 

He left the bandage off and spent another hour simply watching the wound as it slowly healed, allowing the sight to soothe the howling fear and regret and guilt ripping through him, at least enough to finally be able to ease Morty's head off of his lap. 

He arranged the boy comfortably, covering him with a soft blanket and making sure to tuck it around his feet before forcing himself to turn away and get to work. 

Since then he'd barely slept he'd been so busy, collecting all the information he could about vampires, trying to sort myth from fact, and going on quick, twitchy runs out of the vault to collect a veritable buffet of blood choices, even going so far as to bring back a piglet, leaving the creature tethered out of the way to make a mess as it rooted around in a pile of hay he'd regretted giving the animal almost instantly. He also had to pacify Summer, lying through his teeth about where Morty was and then rushing back to check that nothing had changed. 

It had been almost two days of this when, far too soon for Rick to be truly ready and far too long for his peace of mind, Morty came awake suddenly and violently, startling Rick out of a half doze over a cup of coffee and an ancient, moldy book about 'The Vampir'.

Upon waking, Morty gulped down lungfuls of air, gasping for breath, trying to find the words to ask for water but it only made the burn in his throat worse. 

It was overwhelming, coming alive. Compared to the void, the stimuli surrounded him could only be compared to hundreds of symphonies playing different compositions at the same time and yet.. He could hear each of them clearly. The smell of various chemicals, both present and recently removed, the scent of fabrics and metal, wood and alien matter. The sound of two rapidly beating hearts, one of them human and the other.. Something else. He could hear everything, running water and somebody mowing their lawn farther away, Summer texting, the TV in the living room, the passing cars. It was a tornado of sensation and his throat was ablaze. It felt like the flames of a bonfire licked at his throat, scorching the tissue and Morty heard a low, keening, inhuman whine that he quickly realized was coming from him. 

Desperately needing assurance, needing answers and help, and some  _ goddamn water, _ Morty moaned Rick's name helplessly, clawing at his neck.

Rick had devised a plan for when Morty woke up. Honestly, he had. 

He was going to be safe about this, stay back and not make himself an easy target to the starving fledgling vampire his grandson had become. 

Approaching Morty right now was the stupidest thing he could do, but when Morty moaned his name, desperate and scared and needy, Rick threw his plan straight out the window, snatched up a bag of O-positive from the cooler at his feet and rushed to the boy's side, kneeling next to the couch and speaking softly, saying, "I'm here, Morty. I'm here." 

He brushed his fingertips along Morty's hands, gently easing them away from his throat and then neatly slicing the top of the bag with a knife from one of the many pockets in his lab coat and placing the bag in Morty's hands instead, keeping a hold of for now as well, unsure if Morty would simply drop it if he let go. "Drink, Morty, you'll be okay. Everything's fine."

 

* * *

 

The human heartbeat approached and before the being ever spoke a word, Morty knew it had to be Rick. He smelled like stale sweat, like worry and relief. He smelled like laundry soap and hay and grease and hard work. 

_ He smelled like food. _

Morty groaned and looked over at his grandfather, eyes more black than green and watched him slice the top off the bag. Morty could tell it was blood, could see that from the package and he wanted to protest but the liquid screamed relief. 

The teen snatched the bag and downed it in less than a second, making a huge mess. It was all over his face, it dripped onto the sweater he recognized as Rick's and though the burning sensation was receding and he wanted to continue drinking, the liquid was disgusting. It tasted like copper, like sucking on a mouthful of greasy coins but there was something else.. Something warm and full of life, something that smelled beyond delicious. 

Quick with a speed he shouldn't possess, Morty reached out and grabbed Rick's wrist as the older man retracted the limb from handing over the bag. 

Morty didn't want to hurt Rick, wasn't going to bite him, couldn't even dream of injuring Rick but the _ scent. _ The curly haired brunet pressed his cheek to the soft, thin skin of Rick's wrist, moaning unabashed at the delectable smell, the sound of a fluttering heart and the feeling of life, but before Morty could even think of losing control he was pushing Rick away with more strength than he'd intended, pulling his legs to his chest and whimpering, trying to ignore the scalding burn in his throat that'd returned with a vengeance.

 

* * *

As Rick held out the bag of blood he met Morty's eyes and a frisson of tension ran down his spine like ice water, a wary kind of amygdala level reaction that Rick couldn't classify. Morty felt like a predator, though, and for the first time in a long time Rick felt like prey. 

But when Morty's focus turned to the bag the feeling that had overcome Rick faded away. He watched his grandson guzzle the blood, making an absolute mess of himself as he did. At least a quarter of it must have gotten on his face and Rick's sweater; the man’s faintly disgusted amusement kept him relaxed enough that he didn't even realise Morty had moved until he'd grabbed hold of his arm, swift as a striking snake. 

Like a mouse staring, frozen, up at a cobra, Rick just watched as Morty brought his wrist up to his face, rubbed against it like a cat and let out a sinful little moan. Rick's mouth went dry and he blinked dazedly. He'd have let Morty bite him without protest in that moment, but Morty didn't even try. He just pushed Rick roughly away and curled into a miserable, bloody little ball on the floor. 

Rick pulled himself back up and shook his head, frustrated with himself. 

_ Pull it together, Sanchez, what the fuck is going on with you? _

He straightened up and pulled out three more bags of donated blood, sliding them across the floor to bump into Morty's ankle rather than moving any closer this time, running on pure bravado as he avoided thinking about his reaction to Morty. 

The important thing was that his grandson was awake. 

"You didn’t seem to like that much. Not surprised, it must taste like ass, with all the shit they put in it to keep it from coagulating. It's no picnic, I'm sure, but you need it, Morty, so drink up or you won't get dessert." The squeal of the piglet cut in over his words and he grinned and raised his voice, saying, "Shut up, dessert."

 

* * *

 

Instinct, it seemed, triumphed over all. 

The previous bag was disgusting, leaving his mouth filmy, stomach unsatisfied but as the curly haired boy caught sight of the dark red liquid rolling within the plastic, he couldn't stop the animalistic snarl that echoed in his throat, the throb of his fangs and the saliva pooling on his tongue. Morty scooped up the bags and tore the corner from one, gulping it down with a grimace, before doing the same to the second.

And the third. 

It was absolutely foul, cold and unnatural, thick and revolting against his tongue and Morty growled angrily, baring his fangs with a hiss as he eyed the small pink creature across the room. Dessert, Rick called it, but Morty knew without a doubt that if anything within his grasp could be labeled as such, it would be Rick himself. Even from where he was, Morty could smell the intoxicating liquid hammering in Rick's veins. It smelled sweet, like liquid ambrosia and the younger man would have ripped his own hair out for a taste, for a single drop, but he resisted, unwilling to hurt Rick. 

His instincts, the ones screaming at him to attack and rip and tear and bleed everything within a two mile radius dry reminded Morty of a poorly behaved dog. A rabid one. The monster within thrashing against the bars of his will, snarling, clawing at the locks and howling for blood, trying to break free and take control. Morty grit his teeth, trying to ignore the desperate need he felt, to fight the urge to take without permission. 

_ To bleed Rick dry. _

And then it was too much. The unshakable desire to feed was swallowing Morty whole and he was racing across the space in a blur of superhuman speed.  Snatching up the frightened animal, the brunet sunk his elongated canines into soft flesh more easily than a hot knife slicing through butter. 

It was good,  _ so good. _ Morty could taste the fear on his tongue, flavoring his meal like a collection of exotic spices. The blood was hot, brimming with life in the most basic and primitive way possible, and Morty could feel himself absorbing it. He could feel it coating his throat, holding the fire at bay and as the squeezing creature's heart finally stopped Morty dropped the animal, eyes going wide with panic as he quickly came back to himself. 

The teen's lips trembled, his hands shaking and he wanted to lean over and vomit. 

He was a vampire, a walking corpse, and he'd just killed an innocent creature for its blood. He'd wanted to kill Rick for the exact same thing. 

Morty wiped at his mouth, desperately trying to get the blood off, trying to forget about the unnaturally hot feeling of it pouring from his own throat moments before he died and the cool substitute that clung to his skin due to the teen's messy eating habits. Terrified and confused, Morty ripped the soiled sweater from his body and stood there, shaking, desperately holding himself.

He wanted Rick, wanted the older man to hold him and pet his hair. He wanted the warmth of humanity that'd apparently abandoned him, but that wasn't possible. Not when he could hurt his mentor, his friend. Tears brimmed in the boy's eyes, threatening to spill down over his cheeks and he angrily wiped at his eyes, trying not to appear any weaker in front of Rick than he already was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the delay! Would have posted on Sunday but both Sqk and I were busy for Father's Day! This chapter is a tiny bit longer so hopefully that makes up for it! Much love!

Rick watched Morty feed from the bagged blood with stunned awe. The boy’s self control was surprisingly spectacular and the scientist was more than a little impressed. 

The myriad protections he'd set up to keep Morty from killing him seemed to have been rather unnecessary. From the truly gaudy amount of silver jewellery on his person to the lattice of UV light beams that would strobe the room on Rick's word or should his heartbeat slow to a point that was unsafe all the way to the shafts of light he'd prepared to offer himself a retreat, Rick had tried to be ready to augment Morty's self control. 

He’d known there was no point in all of this effort to keep his grandson safe and protected and alive through the most dangerous point of his transformation if Rick ended up dead before the first night was over with, after all. He knew what that would do to the boy once the bloodlust stopped riding him, knew what it would do to himself if he'd been in Morty's shoes. 

Despite his initial deer-in-headlights reaction to Morty, Rick  _ had  _ thought this out, but the worst Morty had done was give him hungry, covetous looks. 

Well, and nuzzle his wrist. And that was honestly, though disconcerting, pretty tame. Especially compared to Morty's viciousness as he tore into the bagged blood Rick had offered up. 

He could feel the disgust rolling off his grandson at the taste of the chemically laced, medicinal fluid, and in the back of his mind he was adding those observations to his ideas for keeping Morty fed. But most of his focus was riveted on the harsh movements from his grandson, the animalistic growls punctuated by the sound of Morty swallowing hungrily. 

It was.. fascinating. 

Moments when Morty had seemed truly dangerous to Rick had been few and far between when the boy had been human; Rick had been grateful for that, and careful to try to shield Morty from the worst of both what the universe had to offer and his own faltering conscience, no matter that he'd failed rather spectacularly on many occasions. But now Morty was all barely leashed violence and power, and Rick doubted that, if Morty had truly wanted it, he could have stopped the teen from killing him.

He'd been banking on some part of Morty not wanting him dead when he'd chosen the protections he had, designed primarily to not hurt his grandson rather than to keep Rick alive at any cost, but the thought was still exhilarating. 

And, oh, he knew that wasn't the reaction he should have to that thought, but Rick had courted danger for most of his life; he came alive when his life was at risk, lived for the moments when nothing but his brilliance and a bit of luck kept him safe. 

Rick's eyes went wide and his thoughts stuttered to a halt as Morty finished with the bagged blood and clocked to the piglet tied up in the corner. His breath escaped in a shaky sigh at the look Morty shot him before the vampire attacked the creature in a blur of motion too fast for Rick to follow. 

He jolted where he knelt as Morty's fangs sunk into the writhing animal, knowing the piglet was a poor substitute for himself, for what Morty wanted to do to him. He'd seen it in Morty's eyes, could feel the vampire watching him as he fed, and Rick shivered, falling right back into that fascinated, watching stillness again, at least until Morty dropped the limp body from his hands and started to lose it, self-disgust and horror obvious in every trembling movement. 

That was Rick's cue, and he snatched up the supplies he'd prepared for this moment as well before moving toward Morty, cautious and slow, speaking in a low, soothing voice the entire time. 

"There we go, Morty. That's a good boy, you did so well. Only eating what I told you.. oh Morty, I'm so proud of you. And I'm right here. I'm so impressed with you, M-morty, with your self-control.." 

Rick gently eased one hand under Morty's ducked chin as he whispered praise to the boy, wiping a damp cloth over his face and neck with deft movements, removing the stain of blood and the tears that were tracking through it in the same motion. Then he tossed the soiled cloth away, nudged the piglet's body out of sight while he had the chance, and grabbed up another damp cloth, carefully easing the boy's arms away from their protective curl around his thin body so that he could continue down Morty's chest. 

As he worked he kept his eyes glued to Morty, watching for any hint that his presence was more hindrance than help, ready to move away again if he saw any sign that Morty needed that.

 

* * *

 

Rick's softly uttered words of praise soothed the terrified boy like a warm blanket in the chilled hours of early morning, calming the teen's frazzled nerves in an instant. 

As Rick stepped closer, the sounds of approach echoed in Morty's ears but he did nothing to ward it off. He knew he wouldn't,  _ couldn't, _ hurt Rick. It was unthinkable, a concept so out of place, so against the grain that it made Morty physically ill to consider, but as Rick started wiping his face, cleaning the blood from around his mouth, Morty began to understand the true meaning of  _ temptation _ . Rick's heart was fluttering, hammering, laced with adrenaline but, surprisingly enough, not fear. It was intoxicating, the radiating warmth of soft skin, the sound of blood flow, the scent of life. 

Unable to resist, the newly awoken vampire turned his head slowly and nuzzled into Rick's palm, lips parting to release a breath of air that the curly haired teen hadn't even been aware he was holding. It was so close, the thrum of Rick's pulse, and Morty could practically taste his grandfather's blood on his tongue, could feel the ghost of it flowing down his throat, but the boy didn't seek to attack. Merely to touch and to feel, to tempt and enjoy the closeness and the feeling of warm skin against his face. 

But when Rick moved away to wash his chest, the teen didn't stop him. 

Morty resisted every instinct that told him to grab Rick's arm and bury his fangs in warm flesh. He wouldn't do that. He wasn't a monster. Wouldn't  _ become _ a monster. 

Lost green eyes peered up at Rick through impossibly dark lashes and Morty flashed Rick a smile, not seeming to realize that his fangs were exposed, teeth covered in blood, "T-thanks Rick." 

For the first time since he woke up, Morty actually took a good look around. He recognized the hatch under the garage, but there was nothing to indicate how long they'd been down there, how many days it'd been since the accident or what'd happened, "Ummm, Rick? How uh, how long has it been since..?”  _ Since I died in your arms? _

Morty barely suppressed a flinch at the unspoken question in his mind and, for some reason, he was sure Rick had heard it as well but the young vampire ignored that, hoping Rick would as well.

 

* * *

 

The way Morty leaned into his palm, rubbing Rick's hand against his face like he was trying to inundate himself with Rick's scent was intoxicating. 

Watching how badly Morty wanted the blood pumping away under his skin, the way the boy breathed in like he was trying to get a taste of Rick through the air itself if he couldn't bite, combined with the fact that he was resisting.. It made Rick's pulse pound, pupils blown wide as he slowly continued rubbing the blood off of Morty's skin. He took longer than he needed to, too busy watching Morty watch him to do an efficient job, until his grandson looked him in the eyes. Then he slowed his movements until his hand rested on the boy's shoulder with the damp, bloody cloth held loosely against cool skin. 

When Morty smiled up at him Rick's eyes flickered over the viciously sharp, bloodstains fangs and then back up to the boy's eyes again as he grinned back. He'd seen worse, and there wasn't much better than seeing his grandson alive, sort of, and happy. Especially when, for a while there, he'd thought he'd never get the chance again. 

Rick's smile faltered, though, as Morty trailed off, leaving Rick to fill in what he'd certainly meant.  _ Since you let me die? _ Rick pulled his hands back and turned his head away, looking down at his watch as an excuse. He didn't need to check, he'd been checking the clock obsessively this entire time. "Forty-six hours. Your parents are off-world and have no idea; Summer thinks we're on an adventure without her."

 

* * *

 

Morty could hear the quickening of Rick's pulse, could practically feel the hammering of the scientist's heart in his own chest and for the briefest moment, Morty thought it was from fear. He thought that he'd scared Rick but in a fraction of a second, the boy knew that was wrong. Fear smelled different, spicier, more attention grabbing, this was something else. 

Something better. 

It was sweet and savory, a slow entanglement of the senses. Like a burst of flavor that didn't set in right away. Morty had no name for it. Inexperience alone assured him of that but he wanted more of it, wanted to lap it up and bask in the euphoria of it all. 

But then it was gone, fading as Rick stepped away and looked at his watch. Morty's dazed expression melted away into alarm, "I-I've been out for almost two days?!" 

The vampire teen leapt up, not noticing the small dents he created in the floor below his feet or the speed in which he moved as Morty began to pace, nervously biting at his nails, "W-what are we gonna do, Rick! I'm a-a-a," The teen's lower lip trembled and he balled up his fist, "A monster, Rick! How am I supposed to go to school! What if I eat somebody Rick?!"

"C-calm down, Morty! Stop dashing around and just chill." Rick said through the guilt pooling in his chest. 

That wouldn't help Morty at all, and Rick would make this as easy for the boy as he could. 

"First of all, shut up you little shit, you're not a- a fucking monster. And you're not going to school until we're _ both _ sure you can handle it." Rick's hand twitched at his side, but he resisted reaching out for Morty again, glaring down at the piglet laying half-buried in a pile of hay in the corner to keep himself from watching Morty pace. 

"Beth and Jerry will be gone for another day and a half, and then there's still the whole weekend after that. So st-stop worrying about- about something as stupid as school, Morty. We'll get through this together."

Eyes wide, Morty stopped moving. 

In truth, he'd barely heard a word that came out of Rick's mouth past the declaration that he wasn't a monster because, in a sudden flash of realization, Morty was faced with the knowledge that he was a  _ vampire. _ He had powers. Super speed, strength. He could smell emotions, could hear human heartbeats. Morty lifted his hands in startled awe, looking into his palms and had the terrifying epiphany that not only was he super human but he was, in theory, _ immortal. _

The teen looked up at Rick with impossibly wide eyes, his lips parted and he tried to speak. Three separate times he tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out. It was terrifying, and exhilarating. 

He was strong now, stronger than Rick. Nobody would be able to push him around if he didn't let them; he didn't have to be a victim anymore, didn't have to be the dead weight that kept him and Rick from the more dangerous adventures. He could be more. More than he'd ever been. 

Morty flexed his fingers, suddenly sporting a huge grin and without warning or thinking about potentially startling Rick, he ran around the older man in a blur of speed with a whoop of laughter before continuing to circle Rick at inhuman speeds, eyes lit up with excitement, limbs strong and unshakable, built for speed and durability.

Rick let out a startled laugh, turning and watching Morty as he dashed around him, almost too fast to see. If he hadn't just watched Morty almost lose it he would have envied him the easy strength and grace, but right now he was just grateful that Morty was happy again, that he wasn’t freaking out and that Rick got to see that impish grin again. The scientist watched Morty circle him for a few seconds, timing it carefully, before he reached out and wrapped his arms around Morty's waist, pulling his grandson in against his chest with a triumphant little, "Gotcha!" and ruffling his hair playfully.

Morty squealed with laughter, mock struggling against Rick's hold on him, eyes alight with enjoyment right up until he leaned his head back against Rick's shoulder to take a breath. 

Predatory eyes zeroed in on the throb of Rick's jugular, the pale skin of his neck and the faint color under his skin where the thick and tantalizing vein laid in wait. Morty's breathing sped up, and he realized, startled and excited all at once, that Rick's scent was all around him, embracing him. The teen's mouth flooded with saliva, his fangs aching and the brunet unconsciously stood on his tiptoes, head tilted back and nuzzled the underside of Rick's jaw, his cool cheek rubbing against the side of the genius' pulse and he let out a tiny whimper. He was so close, so incredibly close and the smell encompassed the boy, thick and tempting. The vampire could feel his pupils blow, could feel the desire to eat and as he opened his mouth to say something, Morty felt one of his fangs brush against the warmth of Rick's flesh. 

Too much.  _ Too much! _

Morty ripped himself from Rick's grasp, frustrated at his actions, upset because playing around with Rick in such a carefree manner was rare, moments to be treasured and he'd ruined it, but he couldn't. Couldn't handle it. Couldn't trust himself not to bite Rick. 

Black eyes settled on the cooler and Morty rushed over to it, grabbing one of the last bags within and tearing the corner off, slurping down the contents with a disgusted groan before throwing the plastic aside and looking to Rick, shame written all over his face, "I.. R-Rick I didn't mean to.. I'm sorry I keep.." Morty squeezed his eyes closed, becoming even angrier that he kept tripping over his words, "Fuck!"

 

* * *

 

Rick felt it the moment Morty went from playful to predator. The boy stilled in his arms and started to breathe again, those deep, purposeful breaths that made Rick imagine that Morty was trying to taste him on the air. 

Rick's own breath caught in his throat, eyes slipping closed as he felt Morty's focus zero in on his neck. He stilled once more, an almost pavlovian response to Morty's hungry attention, and he felt the sweet zing of adrenaline flood through him, leaving him tingling in its wake. But even as Morty nuzzled against his neck and the underside of his chin, as Rick tilted his head back without thought, he wasn't afraid. 

Perhaps that was stupid of him, perhaps he was lacking some part of himself that should have been screaming that he was moments away from death, but all he could think was that this was  _ Morty, _ and that if his grandson hadn't hurt him in the throes of his waking hunger he certainly wouldn't lose control and bite him now. But the possibility, and the smallest thread of uncertainty, was enough to make Rick gasp, to flood him with a confusing array of powerful emotions, as he felt one razor sharp fang trace gently along his throat for the merest second before Morty scrambled away. 

Rick was left shivering with excess energy and his slowly fading fight or flight response as he watched Morty feed desperately on another bag of blood, and he knew they needed to talk about this even before Morty's pointless apologies began. 

"Shut up, M-morty. First of all, stop apologising, what did you d-do wrong, not bite me again? Quit fishing for compliments, too; you know I'm impressed with how well you're controlling yourself." He said, downplaying the very real regret he could hear in the boy's voice. 

"And second, fucking hell, does death loosen your tongue? Don't make me start up a swear jar, mister." He could only maintain a mock-serious expression on his face for a couple seconds before he lost it and had to laugh at the absurdity of that statement, grinning down at his grandson.

The well deflected praise brought a warmth to Morty's stomach and though nearly biting Rick wasn't what the boy was trying to apologize for, he took the easy exit anyway, smiling shyly up at Rick, "Y'know Rick, I-if we had a swear jar a-a-and you had to pay every time you cursed, I bet we could go to Blips and Chitz a lot more often." 

Morty grinned at the older man and took a series of quick steps forward to playfully shove him before darting away and taking a seat, still smiling, "A-at least once a week, Rick." 

He tried to allow the moment to lighten the atmosphere, to help lift the weight of the conversation that was sure to follow. If Morty was totally honest, the idea of being a vampire wasn't a terrible one. The pros were extensive, but there would, most certainly, be cons. 

And the near desperate need Morty felt to drain Rick around every turn was shaping up to be a real problem. If that feeling extended towards every human he came across, Morty knew that he'd be in more than a pickle. 

The vampire huffed and sat criss cross applesauce, frowning down at his lap, "Hey Rick, do you think they have, y'know, vampire support groups? Bloodsuckers anonymous? Maybe they've got vampire safewords, Rick."

 

* * *

 

Rick snickered, absentmindedly noting how fast his grandson was now as he darted back and forth effortlessly. He'd taken to his new speed like a duck to water. It made Rick smile as he turned away and went to a fridge he'd installed yesterday, grinning over his shoulder at Morty as the boy teased him, and then pulling out a series of small containers of blood. He stacked them in the cooler and then turned back to Morty as the boy spoke again. 

"Seeing as I killed y-your sire I think we're on our own here, but I've got your back, dawg. What do you think I've been doing while you slept?" Rick nudged the cooler over to the couch where Morty sat and then settled down next to him, leaving a bit more space than he normally would in deference to the difficulty Morty was having being too close to him. 

"A-a-and if my kinky little grandson wants a safeword then a safeword he shall have. I-it's actually a pretty good idea. You don't want to bite me and I don't want to die. Maybe we’ll need a word eventually for if you're getting a little too interested in me or if you need me to get you out of a situation. Oh, and speaking of getting out of situations.." Rick dug into his lab coat and produced a necklace with a green stone pendant and tossed it to Morty. 

"Break that rock and it'll open a one-time portal into that." He pointed out the solid looking cage in one corner of the room that he'd reinforced and repurposed just in case Morty had been truly out of control. 

"I'd been toying with the idea of getting you out of a tight spot for a while.. it got a lot more important when you came down with a severe sun allergy."  _..and when it could have saved you if I'd bothered to get it working on time. _

 

* * *

 

Morty eyed the blood bags and part of him wanted to continue eating but the idea of drinking any more coagulated blood left the teen feeling less inclined to do so. For the moment, he was satisfied and there was no reason to be over indulgent. Sitting back and enjoying the calm in the storm, Morty listened to Rick ramble on. He was paying attention, he really was, but in all honestly the teen was reveling in the affection he felt towards Rick for putting in the thought and effort about the situation Morty found himself in. When Rick mentioned Morty not wanting to bite him though, the vampire nearly snorted. 

That was a lie, the biggest lie he'd heard since he woke up. 

Morty definitely wanted to bite Rick. There wasn't a single part of the dark haired boy that didn't want to sink his pearly white fangs into his grandfather's neck and take a few deep gulps. 

The irony, as well as Morty's amusement, were interrupted when he felt something coming his way. Quick with inhuman reflexes, Morty fluidly snagged the green pendant that flew toward him with a grin. In the past he would have fumbled it, even if he knew Rick was throwing it. He would have dropped it but now.. Now he didn't even have to think about it. He reacted accordingly, with some sort of freaky vampire grace that he'd only read about in books. 

His grin slowly faded as Rick explained what it was for though. Weary eyes looked over at the cage and Morty got a mental image of himself in there, wild and rabid, thrashing against the bars and snapping his teeth. It wasn't pretty and the boy shivered before nodding and slipping the pendant over his neck, feeling the stone sit against his skin, quickly becoming the same temperature as his body. 

"T-thanks Rick! I like it." 

Morty looked down at the stone and realized, with a flood of warmth, that he actually did like it. He'd always been a bit sentimental, always enjoyed keeping things that reminded him of Rick and their adventures, and the pendant was beautiful. It was nearly the exact same shade as the portals Rick produced with his gun, the ones that took him to the craziest parts of the multiverse, and the thought made Morty feel a tiny bit giddy.

As the vampire mulled over what Rick said, he snickered, "Maybe y-you'll have to invent some vampire sunscreen, Rick. SPF 5000." Morty chuckled and, without really thinking, reached down and grabbed a bag of blood, tearing a hole in the corner and drinking it down. 

The liquid was less unpleasant than before, a bit on the tangy side with some weird hint of citrus and part of Morty wondered how it would be warmed up. A brief mental image of himself microwaving a cup of blood in a coffee mug made the teen snort. Blood in a mug, like a civilized vampire. It was ridiculous, but apparently so was the rest of his life. 

Once again excited by the idea of this new life that he'd been subjected to, willingly or not, Morty started practically bouncing in his seat, "H-hey Rick! Do you think I've got powers! Y'know, l-like in the old movies? Think I can turn into a bat Rick? Or fog! Maybe I can turn into fog!" 

Morty's eyes went wide as saucers and his mouth took like shape of a tiny "o" of sudden thought "Rick! What if I can hypnotize people!"

"Hey hey, slow down and taste it, Vlad the Inhaler, each of those bags have a different kind of blood in them and none of the chemical preservatives that donated human blood has." Rick said, but he didn’t reach out for the bag again, despite his words. 

Morty's reaction the last time Rick had a hold of the bag alongside the vampire was still whirling through his thoughts. The boy’s spastic, eager excitement and rapid-fire questions distracted him fairly quickly though. 

"Give me a bit more than two days and maybe I can whip some sunscreen up. I need to do some tests to understand what about sunlight is actually dangerous to you. A-and who knows, Morty? Maybe you can, or maybe you can control a specific animal, that's in a lot of the lore too. But let's hold off on your Mandrake the Magician act until after your first night as a vampire. I don't really want to stand on my head or-or do the macarena right now." Rick tilted his head and watched Morty take another distracted sip from the bag in his hand. 

"You know, there's a microwave in the uh.. kitchen." It wasn't much of a kitchen, really. A newly installed fridge to replace the bar fridge Rick had had before, a sink with an open shelf above it stacked with the '#1 Dad' mugs that Jerry kept 'losing' and constantly re-buying, and barely enough counter space next to that to hold the microwave and Rick's coffeemaker were all crammed in between a workstation covered in experiments and a desk stacked high with a mix of ancient looking books and high tech gadgetry. 

"It was the temperature you liked about Wilbur, too, right? Not just that it was alive? Because I can bring you a steady supply of whatever you want to eat, but you looked like you were gonna hurl after you killed the piglet." Rick hadn't even been sure that Morty would've been able to handle killing the animal, but it seemed that his vampire instincts were stronger than his delicate sensibilities. 

If it had been Rick, he'd want to eat his way through a whole menagerie of species, human included, but he'd kept to the PG version of that with the bagged blood for his grandson, and would continue to do so until Morty asked for more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, Sinners! Bit of a shorter chapter this time but hopefully you'll all like it regardless(: Thank you for all of the amazing comments and for taking the time to leave kudos and to subscribe! It means the word to Sqk and I. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither Sqk nor I own Rick and Morty. 
> 
> Ta,   
> Clairvoyance and Sqk

For the first time since he woke up, Morty relaxed against the couch. It was strange, how little had actually changed in the grand scheme of things. Rick was still throwing out puns like he was their king, Morty was still sitting beside him with a dopey grin, just soaking up the older man's infectious company. The only difference was that there was an extra bit of space between them, Morty was drinking blood out of a bag and he could, most likely, snap the scientist's spine like a twig with very little effort. 

The brunet cast Rick a sideways glance, taking in the casual and overly relaxed nature of his mentor's posture, the way he didn't even think twice about lounging so close to a newly turned vampire that'd very nearly bitten him more than once. It made Morty's heart clench, made some unnamed emotion swim through him with a certain ferocity at the thought of how blindly Rick trusted him. A man as guarded and paranoid as Rick Sanchez trusted nobody, allowed nobody at his back, but he trusted Morty. Trusted him not to lunge forward and drain him dry or to hurt him. 

Morty felt humbled by that, felt honored in a way he didn't often think about. 

The teen flashed Rick a soft smile when the older man rambled a tiny bit about the sunscreen. Only Rick would turn vampirism into a science experiment. Morty winced as Rick mentioned of the piglet, asking about the temperature versus the fact that it was merely alive when the vampire killed it. Dark green eyes cast a look towards the dead creature with regret. 

He didn't want to tell Rick that it was the struggle, the fear flavoring the hot liquid as it poured down his throat that made the pig’s blood more pleasing than anything else; Morty just gave the older man a shaky smile, hoping that it would appear laced with sympathy more than shame, "Y-yeah, Rick. It's just, y'know, really gross when it's cold." 

Morty rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and coughed out a laugh before self consciously peering into the cooler. He didn't want to stress eat, didn't want to overindulge, but the shame he felt combined with the seemingly misplaced trust Rick had in him left the boy reaching for a bag filled to the brim with blue blood merely for something to do. It looked strange, almost sparkly, and Morty tore the top off, taking a long, deep swallow without even really thinking about it but the moment the liquid hit his tongue Morty was gagging, coughing and spewing it all over the couch and, unfortunately, Rick. 

It was like drinking straight hot sauce, like gargling ghost pepper flavored acid. It was disgusting, sharp and painful against his tongue and Morty leaned over the couch, wrenching his guts out. He didn't vomit but Morty felt like it was a close call, drooling all over himself, blue blood dripping from his chin, eyes watering, the couch cushions held in a death grip under his strength.

 

* * *

 

"Jesus, Morty!" Rick yelled, startled, as Morty spewed blood all over him. It tingled where the blood had touched his skin and he groaned, realizing what had happened.   
"Of course you chose that one to chug. Hot, eh? It's an irritant even on- just getting it on you burns." Rick shook his head self-deprecatingly and a grin spread across his face once more. Served him right for including it in the first place, he supposed.   
"That was pretty fucking hilarious, e-even if it seems like you're on some kind of- of mission to get blood on every scrap of clothing I own. So fucking messy.." Rick muttered as he pushed himself to his feet, ruffling Morty's hair once he was standing and then pulling off his jacket and then his sweater and undershirt all in one go and tossing the lot aside. He twisted this way and that, looking at his pants for blood stains, but by some miracle they were still clean, so Rick left Morty still spitting out blue blood all over the floor and went to the kitchenette to wet down a cloth and start rinsing the blood off of himself before the tingling where it touched his skin turned to stinging, burning pain.   
"If it's gross cold then d-don't drink it cold, Evil Dead." Rick said, concentrating more on the wet cloth he was running through his hair than on Morty.   
Before he'd been covered in regurgitated Travlorkian blood he'd been thinking that his grandson was keeping something about eating the piglet from him. Knowing Morty it was probably some overdeveloped guilt complex about enjoying it too much.   
The kid always did set too high a bar for himself. And for Rick. Morty expected him to be better than he was, and never seemed to stop expecting it, no matter how many times Rick thought he'd screwed up enough to prove that the boy's faith in him was wildly misguided. But the way that eating Babe had made Morty feel was Morty's business; Rick wouldn't pry.

 

* * *

 

Morty, for his part, continued to hack his guts out. 

He could hear Rick speaking, could hear his partial explanation, but the boy paid it very little mind, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his mouth. It reminded him of the time Rick took him to a Cardassian restaurant on Terras-12 and convinced him to try their seafood. Even after nearly a year Morty didn't think his taste buds had recovered all the way. 

He wanted to complain and ask Rick why he included it at all but suddenly the scientist's hand was ruffling his hair and the older man was standing up. Hoping for a glass of water, Morty glanced up and opened his mouth to speak but before a single word could cross his lips, the words were dying on his tongue. 

Rick was stripped down, torso exposed, and running a damp washcloth over his skin. It was strange. Morty never really thought much about Rick as a man, never really considered whether or not he was attractive, but beneath the fluorescent lights, skin slick with water, the vampire couldn't have denied the thought if he tried. Lean, tight muscles clung to Rick's bony frame, accentuated by the way they moved under his skin with every swipe of the cloth. Scars sat scattered across his flesh like stars in the night sky, some of them Morty could remember patching up and others that were present long before Morty was ever born. Silvery blue hair clung to Rick's body, thin and wispy along his arms and, to the boy's discovery as Rick turned back around to face him, across his chest and circling his belly button. He was so fragile, thin and obviously older, but there was strength in those muscles, impossible strength that Morty had never once considered abnormal or strange in any way. 

Because that was just Rick, that was just the man he knew.  But now, with the sensitivity of Morty's enhanced sight, the teen could see it all. 

Every single scar, each individual hair, every wrinkle, every freckle. It was a painting, a work of art along the expansive canvas of Rick's body. It was a story, a detailed description of the life he'd lived, the adventures he partook in, the mistakes he made, the many hours spent under the sun and Morty was in awe of it. He was ensnared by the underappreciated beauty of a man decades his senior and suddenly, in a thought that left Morty both alarmed and horror struck, he realized that part of him wanted Rick for more than his blood. 

He'd always wanted Rick, wanted his company, his knowledge, his genius, his sarcasm and his wit, wanted his approval, but never his body. 

Until now. 

Aware that Rick wasn't a fool and would definitely notice him gaping, Morty did the only thing he could, he grabbed another bag from the cooler and practically flew into the makeshift kitchen, grabbing the counter top so hard that his fingers were leaving imprints. It was wrong. A stray thought, one that had no business inside his head, one he didn't even want to contemplate and Morty blamed it entirely on the stress of dying and being born again as some sort of monster, no matter what Rick said, that wanted to prey on the weak and taste the fear on his tongue as their hearts drew to a stop. 

Morty tightened his grip on the counter, staring down at the bag alongside all the mugs. He wasn't hungry in the least and Morty mentally flogged himself for grabbing it in the first place rather than just going for water. He didn't want to drink it.  Didn't want to stand in a hatch below his basement microwaving blood like some cheap vampire romance novel. He didn't want to be having weird thoughts about Rick of all people, who would most likely call him disgusting even for thinking it.  _ Or worse. _ Who would throw it in his face around every turn. 

Feeling sick to his stomach, Morty poked a hole in the bag and poured the thick substance into one of the many cups, stomach churning despite the grin that captured his lips at the inside joke both he and Rick shared, their mutual theft of his dad's mugs, and he stuffed the mug into the microwave, vaguely wondering if you could accidentally burn blood.

 

* * *

 

Rick looked up from cleaning the last spatter of blood from his skin to watch as Morty sped to the kitchenette and started to put together a mug of blood for the microwave, looking tense and obviously unhappy. Rick hated the way his shoulders bunched up like he was anticipating an attack, the way his arms strained against--  _ holy shit!--  _ the bent, crumbling counter beneath his fingers. 

He really should go easier on the kid, Morty had enough to come to terms with without Rick making it worse. He tossed the cloth in his hand aside and walked up behind Morty, shutting the microwave door over his shoulder and hitting the 'popcorn' button. 

"Should get it close to 98.6." He said, making it sound like an apology before clapping a supportive hand on on Morty's shoulder. The vampire’s skin felt different now. It was colder, firmer, and he could feel the muscles under said skin, the power that gave Morty the strength to destroy stone with his bare hands without even noticing. 

"It's freezing down here, does it still feel cold to you now?" He asked, voice calm, despite the way his pulse had kicked up, as he moved away, digging into the fridge to grab a beer out from the only shelf without blood in various containers on it. He popped off the cap and took a long drink before bothering to look around in vain for a change of clothes; he still had his priorities after all, even if he hadn't felt this self-conscious about his state of dress in years.

 

* * *

 

Morty bowed his head, breathing in the scent of bagged blood, trying to control his thoughts, to purge the attraction from his mind, but suddenly Rick was behind him, reaching a careless arm over his shoulder and setting the microwave. 

It was the worst sort of torture, the scent of his skin, his  _ life _ , so close to Morty's face after his little mental slip where the scientist was concerned but the boy just squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, a mantra on his lips as he reminded himself that Rick was a friend and not food.. 

And finally, _ finally,  _ after what felt like a lifetime but was most likely less than a minute, Rick stepped away. 

As soon as he was sure the older man had taken a few steps back, Morty let out a relieved breath, his eyes fluttering shut but the older man's scent was all around him, like a lingering flurry of perfume and Morty inhaled it deeply, torturing himself in a way he couldn't avoid. 

Christ, it was just.. _ Rick smelled so good. _

"It's uh," Morty struggled for words, trying to actually consider what Rick asked and answer him honestly, "It doesn't really feel like anything to me, Rick. Just kinda, y-y'know, like the room is t-the same temperature as I am. Heh." 

The dinging of the microwave startled Morty out of his awkwardness, and he jerked the door open, yelping as he accidentally ripped it off its hinges, effectively damaging yet another thing in the hatch. Eyes wide, Morty snagged the cup and awkwardly tried to make it look like the microwave door was still attached but, even to Morty's eyes, it was a piss poor attempt at best.

But Rick hadn't missed Morty ripping the door of the microwave clean off, and the sight was absolutely hilarious, easing the itchy tension he was feeling. There was nothing to be nervous about, it was just him and his clumsy little grandson, extras or no. 

"Oh my fucking god, Morty! You're a menace!" Rick's words were laced with laughter and he covered his eyes with one hand, waving the other like he was trying to erase the sight in front of him. "D-don't touch anything you think I'd miss until you figure yourself out, okay?"

Morty tensed when Rick spoke up but the comment, paired with the older man's amusement, just left Morty to grin, looking over his shoulder at his friend with a wide, teasing and utterly carefree smile, "Don't touch the coffee pot, stay away from your booze. Got it, Rick!"

Rick rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the look ruined by the smile on his face. "Cocky little shit." He said, amused and relieved that the tension he'd been feeling between them had faded away. 

"I'm gonna g-go get a change of clothes for both of us. Or maybe two or three if you plan to keep being such a slob." He added, raising one eyebrow questioningly as he paused at the ladder up into the garage.

* * *

 

Morty wracked his brain for a clever retort, the tiny space between his eyebrows becoming pinched before his features smoothed over and he offered Rick another smile, "Sure thing, Rick" 

Morty grabbed his still warm cup and sashayed fluidly back over the the couch, dropping down to it without a care, blood sloshing in his cup and he took a slow sip, staring at Rick over the rim before continuing, "Maybe I'd be less of a slob if you didn't, y'know, feed me acid. I mean, where did you even get that shit, Rick? The prop house for  _ Alien 2 _ ?" 

Morty snickered at his own joke and took another sip.

 

* * *

 

_ Maybe not quite the same clumsy little grandson. _

The thought flashed through Rick's mind as his eyes followed Morty's smooth, controlled glide back to the couch. He looked otherworldly as he did it, moving like a human simply couldn't, with a grin on his face like he knew it. 

Rick grinned a moment too late at Morty's joking response and looked away quickly, starting to climb the ladder and yelling back down, "I didn't feed it to you, you fed it to yourself! There's an orange sticker on it and everything else in there I thought might taste fucked up!" as he vanished up the tunnel and pulled himself out into the garage, kicking the hatch shut with a grin at getting the last word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Sinners! Sorry about the delay. To be honest there was some pretty amazing things happening in the RP and Sqk and I just couldn't bare to part ourselves from it lol I know, I know, slightly irresponsible but we both channeled our inner Rick and made excuses until we were satisfied haha Don't worry though. We plan to release chapter 6 a little earlier to make up for the slack(: Enjoy you guys! 
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Sqk and Clair

Morty reclined against the couch with a smirk, sipping his blood, "Smart ass." 

He loved the way Rick always got the last word in. It used to annoy him, used to piss him off even but honestly, after so long, he’d grown to love it. Especially when it was directed towards his dad. If Morty was certain of anything it would be that the Rick would outlive God trying to get the last word. 

The vampire slurped down the rest of his blood, humming at the warm taste and the vague hints of sea salt and pepper. He would have to ask Rick to get that kind again.

Licking his lips, Morty set his cup on the ground and walked around, looking at everything. The sights were interesting, of course, but he'd seen most of it before. No, what really interested the teen was the way everything  _ smelled. _ Wood smelled fresh, earthy and kind of like damp soil. Metal was colder, more gritty, and it stung his nostrils in a way that was anything but unpleasant. Chemicals were raw, burning, but they each smelled different, distinct in a way they never had before when he was human. Some like crushed ants, acidic and unmistakable, some more natural, like citrus or bay leaves. One of them even smelled kind of like black licorice and Morty grinned. Fabrics were distinct as well. Cotton smelled vastly different than polyester, silk was sweet, soft and airy. Plastic, to Morty's surprise, smelled kind of gross, like unscented wax in the sun. 

It was, most likely, a strange sight. A teenage vampire stalking around an underground sci-fi hatch, sniffing everything, but Morty found himself grinning, inhaling everything there was to explore, getting up close and personal, expanding the memory banks of his knowledge.

A few minutes later Rick came sliding back down the ladder wearing a new sweater and holding a pair of jeans and one of Morty's shirts. 

He felt another smile tug at his lips at the sight of his grandson smelling a beaker of bright purple liquid and then quickly holding it away from himself with a grimace. "Morty! Come get dressed, I want to run some experiments on you."

A dark blush scalded Morty's cheeks as he hurriedly set the beaker down and stepped back, rolling onto the balls of his feet with a sheepish grin, "Okie dokie, Rick!"

Rick led the way over to a table with a thin beam of light shining in the middle of it, with a wide array of filters and circles of coloured glass scattered around it. 

Then he tossed the clothes at Morty's head as he said, "D-don't give me that look, as soon as I left you went around and touched everything in this lab, didn't you?" 

Rick didn't sound annoyed though, he trusted Morty to be careful, the kid only seemed to break things when he wasn't thinking about it, not yet used to his strength and with a lifetime of muscle memory working against him.

The curly haired vampire caught the clothes with ease, practically dancing in the way he slipped them onto his body. 

It was incredible, the ease he felt within his own skin. Morty always felt awkward, a little too gangly, limbs too long, muscles not quite big enough, a bit too round in the face. But now, even with how unsure he was about his strength, his speed, and his potential abilities, Morty felt secure in his body. He felt fluid and loose, easy in a way that he'd never believed possible. 

As soon as Morty stepped into his pants and pulled his shirt over his head, the teen shook his limbs out and bounced over to the table, hopping up on it with a grin in Rick's direction, the smile lighting up his features, "What's first, Rick? Maybe a-a little, y’know, _ Saw _ recreation? Gonna harvest my organs for the black market and see i-if they grow back?" Morty knew that Rick would do no such thing, that the older man wouldn't really hurt him but it still did his heart good to tease, kicking his legs back and forth along the space beneath the table.

Morty's enthusiasm was catching and Rick grinned back a little viciously, tongue caught between his teeth. Morty's joking suggestion made him wish he'd done exactly that to the sonofabitch that had killed his grandson, but he just said, "D-don't tempt me." And flipped all of the screens and circles of glass out of the way of the beam of light. 

His voice took on the slightly arrogant, impatient tone it always did when Rick detailed his experiments, but it was hard to seem superior when he was absentmindedly catching Morty's foot every few kicks and then letting it go again as he spoke. "This is plain old sunlight. Y-you're not going anywhere close to the real thing until we find out how dangerous it is to you in a controlled way. Plus I want to isolate what exactly is harmful to you. Maybe you'll be fine in the sunlight on other worlds. Once I know, I can reprogramme the portal gun to include our findings in the hostile environment checks it runs automatically so you don't get roasted if we go somewhere unplanned."

Morty looked at the thin ray of light with a bit of hesitant weariness. All the boy could think about was old movies where the vampire burst into flames, screaming before being turned to ash. 

It left him uneasy, but he nodded along with Rick's words, knowing his mentor would never let anything truly malicious happen to him. "Alright, Rick."

"O-okay, now don't touch it, just bring your hand near it." Rick said, but then grabbed Morty's hand and pulled it back when the boy went to do as he'd said. 

"A-actually, let's just.." He rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a little tub of salve, and then snatched up a small knife and returned to Morty's side. 

"Let's see how you heal from something that isn't potentially life threatening first, and if that-" a sharp had tilt to the jar, "works on unliving tissue." Rick raised an eyebrow and offered Morty the knife with a flourish, holding the blade so that the handle was within easy reach of the vampire.

With a certain amount of caution, Morty reached out and took the handle, holding the knife in his palm. It weighed very little, light, evenly balanced and the brunet looked at it appraisingly before holding up his arm and making a quick slice, hissing sharply as the blade slid shallowly along the skin. But the vampire himself was curious as to what would happen as well so he didn't really mind. 

It was odd. 

The wound didn't gush blood like it would have were he still completely alive. Blood oozed from the wound, darker than usual before, within seconds, the skin was knitting itself back together, leaving soft, clear skin in its wake. No scar, no blemish, nothing to hint at the possibility that he'd ever had a cut there to begin with and Morty couldn't hide the cheek splitting grin that captured his features before he was giving himself a second slash, yelping as it went a bit deeper, most likely snagging on a vein and cutting into it. He expected something to happen, maybe something a bit more drastic, but it was just more of the same. 

A dull throb, a short lived ooze of dark blood and the knitting process which, Morty quickly learned, itched like nothing else. "D-did you see that, Rick?! I'm like Wolverine!"

"Yeah, o-okay Morty, you're like Wolverine, nerd." It took real effort for Rick to keep his voice level after watching Morty slice into himself. The way the cuts healed had reminded him, rather suddenly, of sitting there and watching Morty's throat heal during those first endless, terrible hours after Morty's death. 

Rick shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to get control of the fear and the echoes of lonely misery that had flooded through his system. Morty was fine, he was right there, bouncing around like the happiest little vampire in the world, experiencing everything for the first time again. 

And he'd _ be _ fine too. 

Testing his weaknesses was the safest way for Morty to learn his limits. And Rick couldn't take steps to counteract his new vulnerabilities until he understood them. He'd healed remarkably quickly from the knife wound, quickly enough that testing the salve was impractical. He'd be fine for this too. The reassurances didn't do much to quell Rick's fear for Morty or the fact that the scientist really didn't want to do this, but he'd put Morty in far worse situations, and done so many things he hadn't wanted to do that he couldn't keep track of them all. 

This was just one more.

"W-well, go on." Rick said, mouth twisted into little sneer. He'd been quiet too long and Morty had just been watching him this entire time, so he glared up at Morty as he spoke, daring him to comment.

 

* * *

 

It was all fun and games, all newfound excitement, until the pungent scent of misery wafted over Morty's senses like stale sweat. It was thick in the vampire's nostrils, making the boy scrunch his nose but, at the realization that it was coming from Rick, the boy stilled, setting the knife beside him. 

Despite Rick's comment and his challenging tone, Morty reached out and just barely touched his fingers to the scientist’s elbow, eyes alight with worry. He wanted to say something as well, to ask if Rick was alright but he wasn't so sure how that would be received. All was fine now and Rick had been beyond patient but all it took, at times, was a wrong word to send him on a scathing rant. Especially when emotions were involved. 

Morty swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up at Rick, preparing for a verbal lashing, "Are.. Are you alright Rick? We can stop for now, I didn't.." 

_ I didn't consider that this might bother you. I forgot that you watched me die the other day. I don't want to hurt you. _

"I didn't mean to cut so deep."

Rick pulled his arm away, glare hardening, and he snapped, "Wh-why wouldn't I be? J-j-just fucking.. we just need to figure this shit out.  _ So go on. _ " 

He was almost resentful of how the tension coiling him up eased under Morty's gentle, tentative touch and soft question. He should have been used to it by now, Morty had always gotten under his skin more than anyone, but it wasn't an easy thing to get used to.

The disgusting scent of negative emotion quickly melted away, making room for something tangy that Morty was guessing was annoyance as well as relief. There was a softness to Rick's face, regardless of the sharpness of his words and Morty tried his very best to hide the smile that surfaced within as he shoved his arm under the artificially created sunlight, the skin around his eyes pinched from the mild amusement he failed to suppress. 

If Morty were being honest, the best thing about being a vampire so far was the insight it gave him. The speed was nice, the super healing was  _ beyond  _ sweet, but being able to taste emotion, to smell it coming off Rick was the most useful thing he'd encountered so far. Rick was always so complicated. The emotions portrayed in his voice and the words coming from his lips were not always the truth. Even before becoming an undead creature of the night Morty knew that, but very rarely was he able to decipher what the older man's true feelings really were. 

_ But now… _

Now Rick couldn't lie to him. 

A sudden burning sensation jerked the vampire from his thoughts and he yelped, pulling his arm back with unnatural quickness, eyes wide but the unpleasant feeling didn't stop. It kept gaining speed, becoming more and more painful, hotter and more profound and Morty cried out in alarm, watching with wide and terrified eyes as the spot on his arm quickly grew pink, morphing rapidly into a dark sunburnt red before the flesh popped like the skin of a grape, splitting open, becoming cracked and black like a burnt marshmallow. It stung, burned something fierce and Morty squirmed, curling his toes in agonized discomfort, eyes brimming with tears.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Rick truly hated himself. 

This was one of those times, because he knew he should've been focused solely on Morty, who had tears in his eyes, was clutching his hand and staring at it like it was going to fall off, and probably would have passed out from hyperventilating if he'd needed to breathe anymore. 

And he did care. 

He reached out and cradled Morty's hand in his own, rubbed one thumb along the cool skin of the boys forearm and said, "H-hey, hey Morty, calm down, you're fine, you're healing already, see?" 

But he also hadn't stopped Morty from leaving his hand in the beam of light when it had begun to smoke. He hadn't gone immediately for the salve to try and soothe the pain either, more interested in seeing what happened without any intervention, and his hands had been steady as he'd timed the entire thing. Most of his thoughts were occupied by calculating how far Morty could run through the sunlight safely, how long he could stand in the light without experiencing this level of resulting harm. His mind whirled as he extrapolated based on the dispassionate observations he'd noted while his grandson was in pain, and he didn't even consider offering to stop. 

He needed to know what part of sunlight hurt Morty, and to do that Morty needed to be hurt again, it was as simple as that.

* * *

 

 

Morty clenched and released his fingers, gritting his teeth through the radiating pain flowing through his body in slow, deep echoes. 

His skin looked disgusting, black and cracked, split wide. It was odd, to smell burning flesh and realize that it was coming from you and Morty couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust before hissing in pain as Rick ran a finger over the blackened skin. Eyes wide, the young vampire watched with partial horror as the burnt flesh flaked away, falling to the ground like flakes of fish food, revealing angry pink skin underneath, irritated but brand new none the less.

"There, see?" Rick said, fascinated with Morty's ability to heal. 

He brushed his thumb along the new skin again. "That was just under a minute in the sun before you burned. And at about half that your skin started to smoke. So you still have half a minute if you end up needing it, easy, and then some. A-and you're fast enough for that to be useful." 

Rick grinned, though the smile didn't reach his eyes as they flickered up to Morty for a moment before he turned away and flipped the first filter in front of the beam of light. 

He could barely meet Morty's eyes as he said, "Alright, now put your hand back." In a faux-casual voice, like he wasn't asking Morty to do it all again for each of the dozen or so filters. 

"If you see smoke, this time take your hand out."

Eyes wide with wonder, Morty looked at the new skin, watching as it grew lighter and lighter with every second that passed. It was kind of cool, in a weird sort of way, but the boy's head snapped up at Rick's words, the denial right on the tip of his tongue. He didn't want to shove his hand back under the light, and he was on the verge of calling Rick sadistic, but as their eyes met, Morty let his mouth fall closed. 

Rick wasn't enjoying himself. 

He appeared neutral but the vampire had a feeling that his companion really wasn't enjoying it any more than Morty.

With a grimace and some half mumbled words, the teen conceded, clenching his fingers before shoving his arm back under the spot of light. One test did not an experiment make. He wanted to help, wanted Rick to he able to develop his  _ SPF 5000 _ with as little resistance as possible and though it didn't feel good, Morty knew that luxuries and conveniences came at a price.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys lol Sqk and I are the worst at getting distracted haha I just wanted to say thank you guys for the amazing comments and all the support. It really means the world to both of us that you're reading out work and enjoying it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither Sqk nor I own Rick and Morty(:

It took almost a half an hour before Rick was finally satisfied. Luckily, there were a few seconds between Morty's skin starting to smoke and starting to redden where, if Rick blocked the light quickly enough, no further damage occurred. But even with the cream, which worked as well on undead flesh as it did on the living, by the end of it Morty had been burned more than a few more times, and the skin around Rick's eyes and mouth was tense and strained from forcing himself to ignore the pained little noises his grandson made every time it happened. 

Rick sat back, hand patting his chest for his ever-present flask before realising it was still in his bloody lab coat on the floor.   
"We're done." He said flatly, not looking at Morty as he pushed himself up from the desk and walked across the room to rifle through the coat pockets until he found what he was looking for and took a very, very long drink.

 

* * *

 

The vampire's incisors ached. 

Morty could feel his need to feed and recharge persistent and unrelenting from his fangs to the tip of his toes. It was torture, sheer torture to let Rick put him back in the sun over and over again. He understood, absolutely understood the necessity of it, but it took everything in the vampire not to attack and flee, especially as they continued on. The first time he'd been distracted by his own thoughts, not realizing what was about to happen but with each additional test, Morty became more and more tense. The pain remained, even after the skin healed. It was a single low throb, aching and deep that quickly became a series of aching pains that echoed within, each more painful than the last. 

The tightness of Rick's voice as he ended their session, the way he cast aside the vampire’s discomfort so easily, like he were a frog pinned to a board for dissection or just another experiment, left Morty detached and angry, cold as he hopped down from the table and stalked over to the cooler, throwing the lid open with a bit of excessive force, a carelessness he should have avoided, but he didn't care. 

Morty hurt; his arm hurt, his pride hurt, his feelings hurt. 

And Rick was just fine. As always. 

But as Morty went to rip the bag open and take a swallow, the most revolting scent imaginable caught his attention, nearly making him retch. It was sharp, like burning fire in his nose, bitter and harsh, unforgiving and as Morty turned to glance over towards his grandpa, he realized the smell was coming _ from Rick _ . Morty opened his mouth to snap at his mentor but immediately closed it at the sight of Rick's trusty flask. 

_ God,  _ how he hated that thing. 

Rick’s drunkenness didn't bother him, not really. It was a part of Rick, one he was forced to accept at a very early stage of their friendship but his _ flask _ . It was like a constant reminder, like a link right to the center of Rick's pain and his inability to cope in a healthy manner like a normal human being. It was a weakness. Rick often said he worked better under the influence of intoxicants but after having spent moments of time with Rick while he was significantly more sober, Morty knew it was almost certainly a lie. Rick became an asshole when he got drunk. His brain to mouth filters failed him and the drunker Rick was, the harsher it felt when he finally ripped into the curly haired boy and mocked him for whatever thing he messed up on. 

Morty grit his teeth, clenching his fist, and ripped into the bag with near savagery, growling low at the rich taste of blood and the suppression of pain in his arm before turning back towards Rick with a flat look, "Is it night time."

 

* * *

 

Rick flinched as Morty banged his way around the room, and then reigned in control of himself harshly and gritted his teeth. He'd done what needed to be done. 

_ Don't shy away from it, Sanchez. You tortured your grandson. Sadistic fuck. _

But he had the information he needed now. He'd keep Morty safe, give him as much of his life back as he could, no matter what it took. And the dull, throbbing ache inside of him was nothing compared to what Morty had endured. 

"You woke as the sun set." He answered Morty without thinking about the words, looking over sharply a second later suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because Rick," the teen dropped the empty bag in the trash and walked over to the ladder leading in and out of the hatch, features slightly flat as he looked back over his shoulder at Rick, "I want a shower and I just figured I should know beforehand if I was going to have to endure agony to get one."

Rick couldn't control the second flinch that ran through him at Morty's words, though he'd tried. But he couldn't let the boy just go up there without saying one last thing, not when he could practically feel the barely suppressed anger and resentment coming off of the vampire from across the room. 

"Summer is up there. G-get control of yourself before you go near her. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

Morty felt bad about what he said, the tone he'd taken, right up until Rick opened his mouth and spoke. The words were like a bucket of icy water on his regret and the vampire's eyes blazed, going black with anger. He understood where Rick was coming from, understood that he'd probably deserved that warning but it felt like a slap in the face. 

It felt like an insult of insults, especially after the praise from earlier, "If I can control myself a -- a breath away from your neck, then I think I can handle not g-going into Summer's room for a snack, Rick!"

He felt angry,  _ furious _ even. Angry at the lack of faith, at the way he allowed Rick's words to get to him and in a fit of anger, wanting to hurt Rick the same way Rick had turn him, Morty hissed angrily, "I-I-I want a shower, Rick. _ A shower. _ Not to rip open my sister's throat," 

He lowered his voice, glaring directly into Rick's eyes, "Excuse me for wanting to get washed up but i-if you died on a disgusting locker room floor covered in blood and sweat and had to stay in it for two days, you'd want one too." 

The words were venomous, thrown with as much emotion as the boy could muster and, not pausing to see how they would impact Rick, knowing that he'd fold under the sympathetic look or the possible anger he was sure to receive, Morty practically flew up the ladder, throwing open the hatch and slamming it closed, relishing in the whine of metal being treated too harshly.

 

* * *

 

Rick stood rooted to the spot, feeling gutted by Morty's words, and by the voice in his head screaming that he deserved to feel this way for letting Morty die. The boy's excitement over his strength and speed had eased the weight of that guilt some, but it never should have. He'd gotten Morty killed, and nothing he did now to make this easier for him would ever, ever make up for that.. would ever give Morty back what Rick had allowed to be stolen from him. 

But knowing that Morty agreed with him was a new level of pain, far worse than when the boy would look at him in disappointment. This was an entirely different magnitude of letting his grandson down. 

Rick breathed out a shaking breath and blinked away the tears that had pooled in his eyes. He had work to do, and his regret wouldn't do shit to help Morty.

 

* * *

 

Still angry at Rick, Morty walked slowly around his house. It was still the same, nothing had really changed, but everything was accentuated in ways he never really realized until the present. Had there always been so many windows? Was the table always that scratched up? With the intensity of his eyes and his new perception of his surroundings Morty could see the scars the house bore, the battles that'd been fought within. He could see spots on the wall where the paint looked thinner than the rest, revealing the numerous blast marks from battles and accidents, cracks in the floor and stains washed from the carpet.. 

Everything was there, the history of his home, all covered by thin layers of paint and wallpaper. 

In a way, it made Morty kind of sad, that the sentimentality of it was hidden so well but he pushed that aside, inhaling deeply and taking in the scent of his family. It was faint, aired out from their lack of presence, but still present. Pleased with the inspection, Morty headed towards the stairs, thinking about how incredible a shower was going to feel as he trudged up them slowly. 

As he reached the hall though, Morty paused outside of Summer's room. He could hear her heartbeat inside, could smell her scent, but nothing about it tempted him. Not really. Sure, it was surpassed by the scent of her cotton candy perfume and the scent of peach body wash but the blood itself, it held no sway. It wasn't like with Rick. Even when Rick had stood across the room from him, the young vampire still felt desire. He still felt the intense need to sink his fangs into Rick's flesh and suck him dry but with Summer, the idea sounded more unappealing than anything.

Shrugging to himself and deciding that he'd think about it later, Morty slipped quietly into the bathroom and wiggled out of his clothes, stepping into the bathtub and turning the shower on. 

The first spray of hot water was so utterly heavenly that he let out a lewd moan, gasping at the sensation of water slipping down over his body, along the length of his spine, through his hair and down over his face. It was like nothing he'd ever felt and the boy almost wanted to cry about the pleasure of something so simple.

 

* * *

 

Rick was drinking steadily and heavily as he worked on modifying his portal gun to check for and warn against the range of UV radiation Morty was now sensitive to in the same way it already did for forms of radiation that were harmful to humans. The more he drank the steadier he felt, the tight band around his heart that had made it hard to breathe through his guilt and misery easing as he drowned the feelings away. 

It took barely any time to finish the task; he started scanning for a world that would meet his needs next. Morty had barely been gone for 15 minutes before Rick portalled away, almost manic in his need to make what he'd done to Morty worthwhile.

 

* * *

 

Morty stood under the water, head bowed, letting the clear liquid pour over his form, steam swirling around him and encompassing his body. It was calm, a place of peace, but the longer Morty stood there, the less peaceful he felt, until, finally, he slid down to the bottom of the porcelain tub and pulled his knees to his chest, allowing the spray to hit his back and shoulders. 

There was a thrill that came with being a vampire. Drinking blood wasn't exactly the height of a  _ glamorous _ existence, but he was powerful. He had speed and strength and he could smell emotions.. but the fact of the matter was that, to Morty, he'd died a few hours ago. 

He'd  _ died. _ Laying in a pool of his own blood, in Rick's trembling arms, he'd bled out, thinking he was never going to open his eyes again. He'd made sure that his last words were for Rick.. he'd expressed his love to the man that meant  _ everything _ to him.. used the very last breath in his body to make a connection that only his grandpa would understand the full meaning of.. he'd fallen into darkness with Rick's face being the last thing that he saw and Morty was content with that. If there was anybody he would've wanted with him, if there was  _ a single person _ in his life that he wanted to be beside him in the last moments of his life, it was Rick.

_ And he'd thrown that back in Rick's face. _

Morty couldn't imagine how Rick felt. About how it would have felt for the older man to hold his corpse or how it would feel to hear those last words coming from Morty. If it were the other way around, Morty knew that he never would have recovered. If Rick had died in his arms, he probably would have been dead within the year. Two at the most. 

The brunet's stomach knotted painfully as he thought about the words he'd spoken down in the hatch. Rick was only watching out for him.. for Summer.. watching out for Morty's peace of mind and his granddaughter's life and Morty had  _ thrown that back in his face. _ He'd spat venom at him, used a moment that was emotionally traumatic for both of them to get back at Rick because his own pride had been wounded. 

He hurt Rick because he was insecure about his own existence. 

Rick.. who cleaned him up.. put him in different clothes so that he wouldn't wake up soaked in dried blood.. Rick who must have wiped his skin down.. Rick who went to different worlds and brought him back a variety of blood so that he could eat something other than human blood.. who would rather have been killed than hurt Morty even while he was in bloodlust.. who tried to make his transition as painless as possible.. who didn't even scold the teen for nearly biting him not once.. or twice but  _ three _ times.. who was working tirelessly to make sunscreen so that Morty could go out in the sun. Who probably sat with him while he was changing.. even though he was essentially a corpse.. 

Morty curled tighter into himself, squeezing his legs tightly and he laid his forehead on his knees and  _ sobbed. _

He sobbed for the life that'd been robbed from him, for the way he acted and what he said to Rick, he sobbed for his innocence and the death of his humanity. He cried for the shameful thoughts he had about Rick, for the desperate need he felt for Rick's blood, for his ignorance. But most of all, Morty cried because no matter what, whether he was human or undead, he still had a habit of saying all the wrong things at all the wrong times.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Here we are again! Sqk and I have both been a bit busy in our everyday lives but we made sure to have this up and ready for you guys on time! (Again, sorry for the week long delay last time lol) And we both really want to thank you guys for all the amazing comments and the kudos and all the support that you've shown both of us. It honestly means the world to us that you guys like this fic. We definitely enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> So! 
> 
> We hope you all enjoy this latest addition to the story! 
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Sqk and Clair

Rick came stumbling out of a portal and into the lab below the garage almost an hour later with, among other things, a half empty bottle of bourbon and an entire wardrobe's worth of new clothes for his grandson.   
"M-m-morty! Get your melanin deprived ass over here, I got you.." He trailed off and looked around, but Morty wasn't in the lab at all. 

The scientist frowned and dropped his bags so that he could climb up the ladder into the garage, the first stirrings of worry making him hurry. Morty had been upset when he'd gone into the house, but that had been more than an hour ago, and even though he couldn't have let the boy go without mentioning Summer, who not only didn't know anything about what Morty had become and wouldn't know to be careful, but who the vampire also might not have been prepared to see without a bit of forewarning, he didn't actually think Morty would do anything irresponsible. 

_ So where the fuck was he? _

Rick walked through the kitchen and the living room, but the house was silent and dark; he climbed the stairs next, intending to go check to see if Morty was sulking in his room, and then paused when he heard the muffled sound of the shower still running. Morty must still be in there, and that couldn’t mean anything good, but still, he hesitated just outside the bathroom door.   
“ _Excuse me for wanting to get washed up but if you'd died..”_

Morty's angry words echoed through his mind and he almost turned away, but no matter what Morty said to him he'd promised he'd be there for the boy, even if it was only a promise to himself, so Rick knocked softly on the door. He could handle Morty telling him to fuck off. Better that than not being there when Morty needed him.   
_Again._

 

* * *

 

Behind the door, Morty sat under a waterfall of icy water, zoned out and unaware of the world around him. 

Eyes dry, the tears had finally stopped; the tragedies of his heart swirling down the drain alongside his tears, but even that felt less than human. He expected to feel the strain of his sadness, the heat of his eyes, presumably rimmed red, the fatigue of his muscles and the soreness of his chest from the power of his soul wrenching sobs, and yet he didn't. The strain had corrected itself long before the tears ever dried upon the swell of his cheeks, the irritation in his eyes corrected as it was happening. 

The physical pains of humanity were no longer his burden to bare, and as Morty stared into the curve of the tub, he felt his heart break. 

He was a monster,  _ inside and out,  _ no matter what Rick said. He was unnatural, something that shouldn't exist, something that _ couldn't possibly exist, _ and yet he did. A supernatural being of inhuman power. But within.. he was now a predator. One that drank blood, longed for fear, for power. One that hurt those around him. 

Blank and unseeing, Morty stared into the tile, repeating the words he'd said to Rick, in both anger and spite as well as his last moments on planet Earth as a mortal, scared to die. Were he able to, part of Morty thought that he might die of a broken heart, that the slow beating organ would finally still indefinitely from the emotional grief encompassing his thoughts, from the  _ pain and shock _ of what'd occurred and from what he felt within. 

A single tortured whine ripped from the boy's throat, following by a pained groan and the vampire dropped his head roughly back down to his knees, breathing out an agonized whisper of Rick's name as he sat below the freezing cold water, uncaring and unaware.

 

* * *

 

Rick had been about to call Morty's name through the door when he heard his own name, a whispered cry for him on the tail end of an absolutely miserable sound. After hearing that there was no way he was staying out in the hall a moment longer. The scientist opened the bathroom door and stepped in, movements sharp and swift with concern. The shower curtain was closed, but Rick opened it, without a thought, to the sight of the huddled form of his grandson curled up in the tub with water pounding down on his back. 

He could feel the freezing temperature of the water from here, and he shut it off abruptly, hating the idea of Morty sitting there for who knows how long with that icy stream coming down on him; his voice was tight with strain when he spoke, "M-morty? A-are you..?" 

But the boy was obviously not alright. He was the absolute picture of unhappiness and pain.

A flash of terror jolted through him as he considered that Morty might still be  _ in _ pain, still be burning inside somewhere from the --  _ you know what it was, say it --  _ the experiments with sunlight. _. torture, you fucking coward, it was torture --  _ from earlier. Rick had no way of knowing what the side effects of sun exposure were to vampires, but he prayed that the boy hadn't been up here hurting, too furious with or frightened of him to ask for his help. 

"A-are you hurt?" He demanded, clipped and worried, and reached for Morty's arm, running gentle fingers searchingly over the soft, unblemished skin of his grandson's forearm, barely controlling his frantic, paranoid worry.

The touch of Rick's fingers startled Morty from the depths of his misery; the heat of the older man's body temperature in comparison to the vampire's chilled flesh was like a bolt of searing heat, the touch so hot that it nearly burned. Wide eyes looked up towards the cause and as they landed on Rick’s tall and imposing form standing over him, Morty felt what remained of his heart crumble to ash. 

Rick looked so worried, so utterly concerned for his well being, so  _ afraid _ regardless of what Morty said to him and before the teen could stop himself, he was flying out of the shower, naked as the day he was born, dripping with icy water, and he was embracing Rick with a choked off sob. 

Morty buried his face in Rick's neck, body shaking and he held on for dear life, trying to remember not to crush Rick in his arms as raw and agonized words started pouring from his lips, "I-I'm so s-sorry, Rick, I'm --" 

The teen choked, nuzzling his wet face into the curve of Rick's neck, "I love you, Rick, so much. I-I didn't mean it, I didn't. I was just s-so hurt and so confused." 

A dark and vulnerable corner of Morty's heart forced itself open in the face of the man he was clinging to, melting into exposure as Rick's body heat warmed him slowly, and though Morty had let it whisper across his thoughts in the dead of night, he'd never once voiced the statement aloud, even to himself, but it was coming out without hesitation in light of his shame, broken only by the teen's chattering teeth, "You're t-the only one who cares about me, Rick. The only one w-who would care if I died for -- for real.. And.." 

Morty clenched his fingers, gripping the back of Rick's lab coat, his voice a near ghost of a whisper, "Knowing you care about me a-a-and would die for me is worth everything. Even my life. I-I'm just so sorry, Rick."

His in-depth apologies tapered off into broken murmurs and hiccups of how sorry he was and Morty just held on, trying to convey just how genuine he was, how much he meant it, and for the first time since the whole nightmare had started, the teen didn't care about Rick's blood. It was so close, right by his face, his mouth, Rick's warm skin pressed against his lips and Morty couldn't care less. Nothing in the universe could have convinced him to bite Rick right then, nothing could have possibly tempted him to harm the older man in any way and he just let himself go, crying against Rick's body, hoping the man would understand, would accept his apology.

 

* * *

Rick fell back against the bathroom counter without noticing, unaware of anything beyond his freezing, crying grandson clinging to him like the world was ending. His arms curled around Morty, one hand anchored firmly in Morty's wet, tangled hair as the other rubbed soothing, repetitive circles on his back without any conscious thought on his part.

"Jesus, M-morty.. It- it's alright.." Rick mumbled as Morty nuzzled his way closer, burying his head in the curve of his neck. 

It was like a piece of himself slotted back into place when Morty latched onto him. His grandson wasn't hurt, first and foremost, not physically anyway. Rick hadn't done any lasting damage to the boy, and from the way he was clinging to him and apologising, he wouldn't hold the damage Rick  _ had _ done against him. And though he didn't believe Morty had said anything to be sorry for, hearing the boy say he hadn’t meant his harsh words, no matter if it was true or not, eased something broken inside of him. 

But as Morty continued to apologise a new ache filled him up at the lonely, painful honesty and belief in Morty's voice as he confessed that no one but Rick would miss him. It was a familiar feeling, one he was intimately aware of. He'd spent far too often in a haze of drunken, existential misery after a too-close call or a particularly bad day, alternately hoping that Morty would miss him when he was gone and trying to take comfort in the thought that Morty was young, had his whole life ahead of him and would probably forget all about Rick and just keep living his life without him when he was dead. But he didn't want Morty feeling that way, hated that Morty had had to think these thoughts, that he'd died probably thinking them. 

"Morty.. I- come on kid it's- you know I love you too. And so do Summer, and your mother and- and Jerry. You're important to more than just me. Beth is going to be furious when she finds out what I let happen to you while she was gone." And wasn't that going to be hell, facing his daughter and seeing the disappointment and horror as she realised that she couldn't even trust him to keep her son safe.. 

Rick forced that thought down, though. One thing at a time, and Morty needed him to be strong right now, to fix this. "You don't need to apologise Morty, I forgive you. I forgave you the moment you said it. And I'll also forgive you for saying something like  _ that _ is worth your life. So melodramatic.. is that a vampire thing?"

The vampire swallowed hard, burying down the childish urge he felt to throw a fit, to insist that he knew what he was talking about, that his feelings were valid and that it wasn't dramatic if it was true. 

Morty's chest fluttered and he squeezed his eyes shut because, through all of that, there was one statement that stood out above all, above even Rick's brief words of love, “ _ You're important to more than just me.” _ Morty's heart clenched at the statement hiding in plain sight between the lines,  _ That he was important to Rick. _

The soaking wet vampire rubbed his cheek against the scientist's shoulder and inhaled slowly, his body shaking as his grandpa's scent cocooned him in a net of safety. The smell of his blood was there, of course, right at the forefront, but below that was an array of other smells that left Morty in a boneless heap of affection. He could smell bourbon. Rick had been drinking and though the alcohol put him off, it was part of Rick, mixed alongside the scent of grease, and mechanical lubricant, laundry soap and a flurry of human pheromones that left Morty's mind quiet and at peace. His thoughts were silent, finally calmed by the presence and the acceptance of the only person who really mattered. 

Morty wanted to respond, to the comments about his parents, his sister, how mad his mom was gonna be, about being dramatic but all he could do was shake his head, standing between Rick's legs on his tiptoes to further slot himself against Rick's body, pushing the older man further up onto the counter, basking in the safety he felt there. He was strong now, stronger than Rick, stronger than anything human but even so, the tiny vampire felt more at ease, more safe, in Rick's arms than anywhere else in the galaxy. Rick would always protect him, always save him, no matter what. 

And now.. Morty would do the same. 

Nobody would ever hurt Rick again, not if Morty could help it. Nobody would ever lay another finger on his grandpa again or he'd rip their throats out and be happy about it. 

The curly haired brunet smiled a bit at the harsh thought and finally whispered, " 'm not being dramatic. I jus' want y-you to take it serious, Rick. I mean it, and someday I'll -- I’ll prove it to you."

 

* * *

 

_ He doesn't mean it like it sounds. _

That was Rick's first thought, trying once more to dismiss the words Morty had said, words that hurt to even think about. 

That he'd do anything for Morty, far worse than simply dying to protect him, was a given to Rick. It was just truth, something he'd accepted long ago. It hadn't even phased Rick, when he'd planned for the young vampire's new dietary requirements, to find that he'd kill for Morty if the boy needed human blood, that he'd cushion Morty from the ugliness involved, protect him if possible. And, also, that he'd bring the young vampire live victims if the pain and fear and the moments before death were what Morty needed, cover up any deaths the boy caused if it was the hunt he wanted. 

It wouldn't be a drop in the bucket of Rick's crimes, and if he could protect Morty's innocence or soothe his conscience even just for the rest of his own life, before he died and, inevitably, left Morty to fend for himself as he lived on infinitum, he'd gladly do it. His relief that Morty was content, if not entirely satisfied, with bagged blood was more for the freedom it gave Morty to choose rather than the unnecessary, careful plans that Rick had tucked away in the back of his mind, the people he'd scouted out that would live on because of it. 

They didn't matter to him. 

Nothing did when compared to Morty. But to consider that his grandson might feel the same.. Rick stared down at the boy in his arms, doubt and self-loathing flooding through him. Morty was easy to love. He was brave, not just in new situations, but in the way he stood up to Rick, pushed against him and refused to give up when he thought he was right, refused to let Rick crush his spirit, to destroy what made Morty so special. And he cared, so much, about every injustice he came across, about doing the right thing and keeping Rick from going too far. 

Morty was his conscience. 

The angel on his shoulder bolstering Rick's faltering sense of right and wrong. He'd kept Rick alive more times than he would ever allow the boy to know with his demanding, questioning, impossible-to-ignore presence, and not just by forcing Rick to not go too far on adventures. 

Sometimes Morty was the only bright thing Rick could see in the whole world, the only thing between him and.. Rick made a small, hurt sound and stared unseeingly at the bathroom wall, forcing himself to stop his train of thought. 

Morty was easy to love, but Rick.. Rick wasn't even easy to tolerate. He was brilliant, yes, useful, definitely. But the kind of unconditional love that Rick wished- that Rick was thinking of couldn't be what Morty meant. It just couldn't.

Pulling back the slightest bit at the soft sound of Rick's painful whine, Morty looked up at his grandfather with bright mossy green eyes through dark, thick lashes, and his stomach knotted at the vague sense of disbelief on Rick's face. Were it anybody else, they would have missed it, but Morty knew Rick, recognized the small tilting frown of his lips, the lines of his forehead and it hurt that Rick didn't believe Morty would stand by him, didn't believe just how much Rick's love meant to him.. but Morty understood.

The blue haired genius was a man of action, one who didn't rely on the words or claims of others.  _ Don’t believe anything that you hear and only half of what you see. _ Rick perceived truth through body language, through the choices made by those around him and how they chose to act rather than what they said. Morty knew that, and with the sort of life Rick had lived, he knew it made the most sense, kept the older man alive, limited his encounters with betrayal. 

Morty meant what he said though. He'd prove it, prove to Rick that there was nothing he wouldn't do for the older man, that he was worthy of being Rick's companion, as well as his friend and despite his knowledge that the words wouldn't convince Rick of his genuity any faster he still spoke, "Hopefully s-she won't find out but if she does I won't let Mom, y'know, skin you alive, Rick." 

The teen smiled at the teasing statement before continuing, soft and honest, "Besides, it doesn't matter w-what she thinks. Not really. Because it's just us, Rick. Just Rick and Morty." 

The boy grinned, his smile lighting up his eyes alongside the rest of his features, "Just Rick and Morty and their adventures. A-a-and if she doesn't like it, then there's an infinite number of other universes that we could learn to call home." Morty held up his hand and extended his pinky, "Pinky Promise, Rick."

Rick's eyes drifted back to Morty's face, focusing slowly and then darting over his features searchingly as the boy spoke. There were layers to what Morty had said, purposeful ones. There was a commitment there, a promise, all wrapped up in the words Morty had used his last living moments to say to him, and it caught at Rick, coiled around his heart and his mind and dug in, painful and oh so wanted. 

His pinched, disbelieving expression faded away, and Rick took the sarcastic little dig that Morty understood him well enough to have left wide open for him. As he reached out and threaded his pinky finger with Morty's his smile was soft and genuine. "Y-you were doing so well, Morty. Th-that was a really emotional moment there. A-a-and then you went and ruined it with a- a pinky swear? What are you, four?"

As the disbelief melted from Rick's features, Morty felt the weight on his soul lift just a fraction. It was subtle, something small, but Morty knew that he'd gotten his point across. That, at least to some degree, Rick believed him, and that meant more to the teenage vampire than he was comfortable even thinking about. 

Rather than make it more emotional than it already was though, Morty took the lightness that the pinky promise, as well as Rick's reaction to said gesture, had offered him, "Watch it, Rick. Pinky Promise is a-a binding contract." 

Tapping into his nerdy side, the teen snickered, his smile morphing  into a full blown grin as he put a little extra strength into his fingers, squeezing Rick's pinky sharply "Even more binding than an _ Unbreakable Vow _ Rick. Y-y-you break a pinky swear and you get sentenced to the Machine of Unspeakable Doom."

Rick caught his breath as he felt the strength in Morty's grip, in just his smallest finger. Morty could break his hand with no effort at all, could have crushed him easily while he was holding onto him, could have bitten him while he'd had his face pressed tight against his neck. 

He could kill Rick in a hundred different ways; he certainly wouldn't have been able to stop him, but Morty never had. 

In the throes of his misery, at his most hungry, after sitting through Rick torturing him with sunlight.. nothing had pushed Morty to hurt him, not even accidentally, and Rick had seen him crush concrete with his bare hands when simply not thinking about it. Rick let those thoughts soothe away another layer of doubt, and grinned wickedly at Morty, teasing him back, 

"Wh-what am I supposed to be- be watching again?" He said, letting his eyes trail down obviously before meeting Morty's eyes again and raising one brow.

Morty's brows knit together in a look of confusion before he looked down at his own body and yelped. He was still naked and dripping wet. 

_ He was naked and dripping wet standing between Rick's legs with their bodies pressed together. _

Quick as lighting Morty was releasing Rick's pinky and taking a number of steps back, grabbing a towel with hurried embarrassment, wrapping it around his exposed figure clumsily. Positively red in the face and utterly sure that there wasn't a single drop of blood in his body that hadn't migrated to his cheeks, Morty stuttered out a mortified apology, pointedly not looking at Rick's face. Even more humiliating, though, was that Morty could feel himself  _ reacting. _

The way Rick's relaxed gaze slid down over his body, the tiny smirk, the playful words and the way he cocked his brow. It wasn't sexualized, wasn't even really meant to make him purposefully uncomfortable, but within Morty's mind he could imagine what it would be like if Rick  _ had _ intended it that way. Deep inside Morty could imagine the heat in Rick's eyes, and it made the brunet's heart pound. 

Hoping to get away before Rick could recognize his shame for what it was, or even worse, before he could actually get an erection, Morty looked back up at Rick and laughed awkwardly, "I-I'm gonna go get some clothes and -- and then I'll meet you down in the hatch, okay? Will you warm up some blood for me, Rick? I'm feelin' kind of, y'know, chilly." 

_ Emotionally exposed. _

The words went unsaid but Rick knew him, probably knew what he meant and before Rick could say one way or another the teen was quickly exiting the room and making a silent dash to his own bedroom.

Rick blinked, stunned, as Morty dashed out of the room. His face had been a soft, rosy pink, which was probably as red as a vampire could get, as he'd stuttered his way out of the room, clumsy as a human once more, if faster. 

Rick generally tried his best not to think about the simulation he'd been trapped in by the Zigerions very often, but there were times like this when he needed to remind himself that while he had wandered around town naked with Morty for most of an afternoon, Morty hadn't done the same, and the simulated version of his grandson hadn’t had the hangups that his real grandson obviously did. 

The boy was young still, and self conscious about himself in a way that Rick hadn't been for decades, and Rick mentally shrugged off his thoughts, dismissing them as he hopped down off of the bathroom counter and wandered back through the house and to the room under the garage, stopping at his room on the way for  _ another _ change of clothes, and filing that little moment away in the category of things he wouldn't bring up again to tease Morty with. The kid was high-strung enough as it was.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all you beautiful people! All of your support for this fic is really, truly amazing and we're both so glad you're enjoying it! Here's another update for you all, a tub of glitter to any reader who catches the reference to toxic-boner's fabulous art (http://toxic-boner.tumblr.com/post/133896445903/what-a-slut) in our chapter this week!  
> Sqk & Clair

Within the sanctuary of his own room, Morty leaned back against the door and breathed out a sigh of relief before wrinkling his nose in distaste. The room smelled stale, most likely because he hadn't set foot in it for days, but even so, he could smell the lingering scent of sweat, dirty clothes and the rank undertones of semen from the course of male puberty. 

Slightly disgusted, Morty quickly made his way over to the dresser and pulled a set of clothes free, tugging on one of his favorite yellow shirts, fresh boxers and a pair of pajama pants. The clean clothes felt nice, especially after his shower but, despite his earlier embarrassment, Morty wanted to get back to Rick. They had lots of neat stuff to talk about and the older man would have something for him to eat. 

A happy smile captured the teen's lips and, uncaring of his surroundings, he practically skipped back to the garage, opening the hatch and jumping down inside, pulling the handle down with the gravity of his body weight, not bothering to use the ladder, with a sound of enjoyment. 

Upon his landing, Morty crouched all cliché and searched out Rick with his eyes, grinning, "D-did you see my Superhero landing, Rick?"

Rick had been lingering by the collection of clothes and sunscreen he’d gotten for Morty, lost in his maudlin thoughts, when Morty’s entrance into the basement lab pulled him out of his own head. His gaze was drawn straight to the vampire's lithe, deft little maneuver, eyes lingering until Morty looked up at him with a beautifully happy grin that forced his breath out in a relieved sigh. The boy was back to playful bantering, all signs of his previous unhappiness gone.

His expression relaxed, tension easing slightly, and he said, " _ Yes, Morty. _ I saw your superhero landing. Although aren't you more Deadpool than Angel Dust?" and then froze as his words registered, a pang of guilt weaving its way back through him insidiously. 

Rick turned away, careful to keep his back to his grandson as he tried to hide his reaction. He looked down, instead, at the pile of clothes and bottles of sunscreen he'd dropped earlier, hoping Morty wouldn't comment on his healing abilities, wouldn't dig in that knife again, though he'd left himself open to it. 

Morty's eyes got wide and excited, smile lingering stubbornly on his features, and he completely missed the guilty undertones of Rick's body language, "That would be so cool, Rick! Hey! Do you think I could cut my own hand off and have it grow back? That would be awesome!" 

Rick watched Morty bounce in place with a pained smile and a muttered, "Let's not find out."

"C-come here, I got you some clothes and shit to protect you from the sun. The- th-th-the t-tests we did- the results- uh, your issues with sunlight are actually a severe reaction to UVA rays, Morty, specifically the 340-400 nanometer range, j-j-just outside of the- the visible sp-URP- ectrum. Your reaction to UVB isn't much worse than mine. It wasn't hard to find a planet with much more severe UVA radiation than ours and get you some clothes. The shirts are even the same ugly yellow as the ones you always wear, except for the long sleeves and the hood. A-and I got you black too, just in case you want to embrace your inner teen-girl-wet-dream-vampire-cliché. Their sunscreen will work as well, for now, but I'll work on something better. It still has the same reapply every two hours limitation shit that pretty much everything you put on your skin has. I'll f- _ urgh _ \- fix it."

Ever at Rick's beck and call, the teen practically danced over to him, his negative mood all but forgotten as he stared down at the clothes in awe, reaching out to gently run his fingers over the soft fabric, and his heart gave a tiny throb as Rick explained. The sunlight was worth it. It was forty-five minutes of pain, but Rick had used that time, and the knowledge he acquired from it, wisely. Because of Morty's patience and his grandpa's persistence and his ability to do what needed to be done, he would be able to walk around outside. He had sunscreen, a way to be normal, and Rick had made that a reality. Went out of his way, even after the hurtful stuff the teen said, to go pick up clothes for him. 

Morty, of course, didn't understand the exact details behind why the sun hurt him, but Rick did. Rick understood and he'd made sure Morty would have everything he possibly could to protect him from damaging rays of light. Not thinking about the embarrassment from earlier, Morty latched himself onto Rick like a leech and gave him another hug, adding a bit of strength to this one before quickly letting go with a laugh and jerking his shirt up over his head, casting it aside with ease and pulling the new one on. It fit him like a glove, just the right size, his favorite color, and Morty thought that if his smile got any wider, his cheeks would split. 

"Jeez, grandpa Rick, thank you!"

 

* * *

 

Rick’s smile got even more genuine as Morty ran his hands almost reverently over one of the shirts. He wished his offering was enough, even just enough to make up for the pain he’d caused Morty in order to be able to do this for the vampire. But the guilt was still there, eating away at him. He had to do more, and there was plenty more he'd planned to do anyway. 

But as he opened his mouth to say as much the air was knocked out of him as Morty grabbed him up in a tight hug. It was almost too tight, and his feet lifted off of the ground just enough that his toes brushed the poured concrete floor rather than actually supporting his weight; an involuntary shiver ran down Rick's spine at yet another show of Morty's inhuman strength before he was released and stumbled to his feet once more. 

"D-don't mention it." He muttered, an irrepressible grin overtaking his own features at how simply and wonderfully  _ happy _ Morty looked in that moment. He'd do anything to see that look again.

* * *

 

 

Morty glanced up at Rick and his breath caught in his chest because that smile,  _ Rick's smile  _ was utterly blinding. It was, in all honesty, one of the most beautiful and uplifting things Morty had ever seen in his entire life and for a fraction of a second, his brain went completely offline. All he could think about was Rick, Rick and his beautiful mind and his lovely smile and all the things Rick did for him and Morty wanted to give him another hug, wanted to hug him forever, but Rick wasn't big on shows of affection, especially the touchy ones so, with great effort, Morty just returned his smile and turned away, going in search of blood. 

He could feel his tummy rumbling, demanding a refill, which Morty was happy to give. Casting subtle looks towards Rick as he moved to and fro, Morty grabbed another bag of the sea salt and peppery blood and wandered to the kitchen. Not surprisingly, the microwave was still broken but Morty didn't mind. Not really. 

He poured the liquid in a tall mug and glanced down at the packaging as he walked, stopping beside Rick and offering him the plastic, "I really like this kind. Can you bring back more of it next time?"

Morty offered the scientist another smile and went to sit on the couch, sighing in comfort as he plopped onto the cushion before he imagined the picture he must paint. A teenage boy, still wet from the shower, criss cross apple sauce in a sci-fi hatch wearing a yellow hoodie and drinking blood like it was the most normal thing in the universe. 

It was ridiculous and the thought sent Morty into a flurry of giggles.

 

* * *

Rick's eyes followed Morty once more, content for the moment, as he so rarely was, to simply be still. He soaked in Morty's presence, the little glances the boy gave him as he moved through the room, fixed himself another mug of blood and came up to him. Rick took the empty bag with a nod, shaking off his relaxed contemplation and memorizing the label. 

His thoughts finally caught up to him, noting that the microwave was still broken, that Morty was stuck drinking his meal cold until Rick fixed it, and that brought to mind all of the other things he wanted to do before the sun came up. So Rick turned away from his happily giggling grandson on the couch and went to the kitchenette, grabbing up various tools on the way. 

"W-w-what's so funny?" He asked over his shoulder at Morty as he set to work reattaching the microwave door.

Morty sipped happily from his mug, no longer bothered in the least that he was literally drinking blood. It tasted good, flavorful, nothing like the disgustingly coagulated crap in the first few bags. It was smooth and made him feel at ease,  _ Rick _ made him feel at ease, and as he caught sight of the scientist fixing the microwave he felt an almost unbearable fondness take hold of his heart and refuse to let go. 

Cold fingers caressed the glass of his mug and Morty continued to watch the older man contently, partially zoned out before realizing Rick had spoken to him and he burst back out into giggles, "A domesticated vampire, Rick. Drinking blood o-out of a coffee mug." 

Morty grinned, "Y-you only see stuff like that in, y'know, paranormal romance novels, Rick."

Rick shut the microwave door decisively and turned to look at Morty. 

"I don't know if you can pull off the sparkly vampire look, M-morty. But I've got to go get more supplies anyway, if you want me to pick up a tub of glitter I will. I want you to know that I support your lifestyle choices." He laughed at the expression on Morty's face, but his thoughts were already spinning ahead to everything he had to do. 

He'd put in an order for the chemicals needed to coat every window in the house and the entirety of Morty's school against UVA radiation, but it was going to take hours to do just the house if he ended up having to paint it on. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving Morty alone while he did the windows at the kid's school, so he'd have to get that part done in sections while Morty slept.. And he needed to remember to stop off and pick up more of the blood Morty was fond of, not to mention eventually finding someone who could get him a regular hookup of the stuff; he couldn't just sneak in and steal it if Morty liked it enough to have regularly, that was more hassle than it was worth. 

He could work on the improved sunscreen formula while Morty was awake, but it took forever to test for longevity, and no matter how badly he wanted it finished fast he wouldn't give Morty something he hadn't tested. Not when it could cost his grandson his life, or even just force him to experience the pain of a burn again. Bad enough when Rick had done it on purpose, but the idea of Morty getting hurt again by his negligence was something Rick couldn't stand even the idea of. He wouldn't let that happen again.

Morty snorted, looking innocently over the rim of his mug at Rick, a coy grin curling his lips, "Y'know, you're one to talk about glitter, Rick. I-I-I've seen your Flesh Curtains posters at the Citadel and you put the Cullens to shame." 

Morty finished off the last of his drink and wiped his mouth on the back of his grin, leaning forward. 

Much like a bird, Morty cocked his head to the side and stared at the microwave with a soft and sincere smile. It was amazing to see Rick work. It'd taken him less time to fix the damage than it took most people to send a ten word text.  _ Most people _ , people like his mom and dad, would have thrown it away and just gotten another one, but not Rick. Rick was a genius and putting a door back on a microwave was like basic addition to him. Hell, building a spaceship that could make _ peace treaties _ with telepathic spiders and a military based government in less than an hour out of random shit he found in the garage was  _ child's play _ to Rick, something he did because he was bored and, sometimes, Morty wondered if there was a limit to the wonders of Rick's beautiful brain. The man was a god, a god among men and Morty honestly believed that there was nothing he couldn't accomplish or make possible with enough resources, time and the desire to do so. 

"Thanks, Rick." Not wanting the older man to see the depth of his affections, Morty lifted his mug in a mock salute and snickered at Rick, "I'll have a cup waiting for you when you get back."

 

* * *

 

"That's right Morty, I am one to talk about glitter. Why do you think I can get you a tub of the stuff? Grandpa  _ can  _ pull it off because  _ Grandpa _ knows how to own it." Rick said, voice full of laughter and casual arrogance. 

He shot a portal into the middle of the room and then looked back at Morty. He didn't want to leave the kid here, not at all; he'd barely been able to stand being away from him the first time, and coming back to find the boy crying and almost catatonic in the tub certainly didn't help. But there was too much to do, and Rick wanted Morty to be able to see the sunrise, wanted to give that back to him at least. 

He could make this easier for Morty, be useful, make the vampire's transition to his new unlife as painless as possible.

_ Apparently as painless as you can manage is 45 minutes of torture, there's room for fucking improvement there. _

Morty needed him to get shit done, not sit around on the couch and trade quips. 

"Y-you should get some sleep while I'm gone, buddy, you look dead on your feet." Rick barked a laugh at his own joke and then jumped through the portal, a shouted, "Wubbalubbadubdub!" the last thing Morty heard from him before the portal, and Rick along with it, vanished.

 

* * *

 

Morty was laughing, laughing at the not so subtle arrogance in Rick's voice, in the pride there as well as the comment itself and he honestly couldn't help but to agree. Glitter looked excellent on Rick. In combination with his pale skin and the vibrancy of his hair, the passion on his face as he belted out lyrics, it made him look almost ethereal, otherworldly at the very least. 

Soft green eyes followed the older man's movements and Morty kept on smiling, a low wave of affection making his heart feel warm at the hesitant look on Rick's face before he stepped into the portal. 

_ He doesn't want to leave.  _

Morty looked down at his lap, shielding his face a bit as his smile morphed into something much more fond and loving than he cared to admit. He didn’t want Rick to leave either, but as the older man moved to do just that and his parting words sounded through the room, Morty felt his heart drop through his chest and shatter. His warm feelings turned to ice, his smile immediately falling and the brunet just stared into the space where the portal, and Rick, had suddenly disappeared from. 

_ I am in great pain, please help me. _

Morty thought that he had no more tears to shed, that he'd wept all he could and that his own tears had run dry in the shower but in the quiet expanse of darkened silence, an agonized sob ripped itself from Morty's frame. He could feel his shoulders shaking, his muscles quivering as he tried to keep it inside but he couldn't. So the boy wept, letting the tears cascade down his over his cheeks. Rick was hurt, more hurt by what he'd said then the teen originally thought. 

He thought it was over, that everything was fine and thought Rick had forgiven him, but it appeared Morty had done far more damage than he realized. 

_ He's saying that because of you, because of your carelessness. Idiot! _

Morty pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, a mirror image of the pose he’d taken in the bathroom and the vampire just held himself, feeling angry at his own stupidity and his frustrating habit of saying things when he should’ve just shut up.. 

He wanted to fix it. To make it better but the teen didn't know how, didn't know how to get his point across to Rick. He didn’t know how to prove that he was sorry and that he didn't blame the scientist. But he was coming up short, unable to think past those happily spoken words that held a far darker meaning than Morty had ever imagined. It wasn't until Morty thought of that smile, the 10,000 watt grin that Rick flashed him after Morty hugged him that the teen found a potential solution. 

That was the answer, the best answer Morty could come up with. He was going to hug Rick, to go out of his way to give Rick hugs and smiles and to remind the man of how much Morty cared about him and appreciated him. 

Happy to have a plan, Morty's frown turned into a watery smile but, regardless, he couldn't stop the tears leaking from his eyes and cascading down over his cheeks at the realization of just how much unintentional damage he'd caused with a single statement.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all you lovely readers!   
> This one took a bit, didn't it? Apologies for the delay, it needed a lot of tweaking on our parts and, honestly, we were focusing rather heavily on writing more of the story instead. (Luckily for you guys, it was worth the wait! I just looked at the word count for this chapter and it's twice as long as all the others! Isn't that fabulous? -Clair) Ugh, we can't wait until you all get to see everything what we've got in store for you, but we've got to remember to keep up with our editing for that to happen. xD   
> Hope you like this chapter! Let us know if you do, it makes editing more fun, promise.   
> -Sqk and Clair

Rick was exhausted and dragging hard by the time he portaled back home, coming out into the garage rather than the room below it where he'd left Morty so that he wouldn't be tempted to stay down there with him. From the moment he'd left, Rick had been keenly aware of every light-year between himself and his grandson and every minute of time while he was gone. That, combined with how much he hated having to blow an exorbitant amount of money on something he could have made himself in a couple of days, had left Rick with a pounding headache and a bone-deep weariness that was hard to shake. 

He carelessly dropped the cooler of blood he'd gotten for Morty on the floor of the garage and then, much more carefully, put down the big compressed-air canister full of the radiation shielding chemicals Morty would need if he was going to walk fearlessly around the house during the day. The only good part of the trip had been finding an aerosolized version of the expensive crap. 

He could whip up a better version of the compressed air sprayer they'd tried to sell him in his  sleep, which was a good thing with how exhausted he was, and it would cut down on the application time significantly, too, but he still needed to actually put the device together, which was another exhausting thought. Rick looked down at the hatch to the basement longingly for a moment, but didn't let his gaze linger for long. He had shit to do. 

 

* * *

 

Morty was pacing. 

He'd tried to sleep,  _ really _ tried. He’d laid all over the couch, tossing and turning, even going as far to curl up cocooned in a blanket on the floor but he couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Rick. 

The vampire felt uneasy being away from him, felt uneasy with so much space between them, felt uneasy about letting Rick go off alone. Which was absurd, he knew. Rick knew how to handle himself. The scientist had been adventuring and getting into trouble, causing all sorts of mischief, long before Morty was ever born but the teen still felt it. 

Biting his thumb nail, turning swiftly on heel to walk back across the room, Morty jumped at the sounds above. Something heavy being dropped to the floor, as well as a metal sounding container being set more gently beside it. 

It had to be Rick, nobody else would just appear in the garage. He would have heard the door open, and it was, to Morty's knowledge, still night time. 

Dark eyes stared at the hatch, waiting for Rick to open it and come down, waiting to see what his grandpa had been up to but it never came, leaving Morty more frazzled and antsy than he wanted to admit.

 

* * *

 

Rick yawned hugely and rubbed one hand across his eyes, leaving a smear of oil across his cheek as he did so, and then continued to disassemble the high powered nebulizer in front of him. He disconnected the lifeform detection, ripped it out, then pushed himself up from the desk so that he could grab what he needed to put together the atomistic model that would draw the radiation deflection chemicals to glass. That, plus a bit of colour that would dissipate as the radiation shielding chemicals bonded to the glass would be everything he needed to-  _ oh shit.. _

Rick stumbled as he stood, knees buckling under him and vision going hazy and dark around the edges as his exhaustion and the way he’d been pushing himself these past few days finally started to catch up to him. He managed, just barely, to reach out and steady himself on the edge of the desk before he actually did something embarrassing like fall to the floor, but the compressed air container fell in his stead, crashing to the ground as his impact shook the table. Rick froze, suddenly and fully alert, his heart slamming as he waited for an explosion to the rock the garage at any second as the pressurized tank bounced and rolled to a halt a few inches from his feet. 

He let out a shaky breath after one long, still moment once it became clear that the container hadn't been damaged, and then cursed himself viciously as he picked the thing back up and set it on the floor against the wall, well out of the way, and went to grab the supplies he was after, hands still a little shaky from the adrenaline draining out of his system.

 

* * *

 

Morty had finally convinced himself to calm down and relax on the couch when a resounding crash echoed through the hatch from above. 

The vampire leapt to his feet, eyes wide and on the ceiling of the bunker, ears straining to hear what was going on. He could hear the faint sounds of Rick cursing so, at the very least, Morty knew the damage wasn't too bad. If he hadn't heard Rick say something the teen probably would have been more worried but, as it stood, Morty was anxious. He wanted to see Rick, needed to, but the older man was busy. He didn't need Morty sticking his nose in everything, slowing him down. 

The brunet growled and paced the area like a caged animal, clenching and unclenching his fist.  _ Something to do. You just need to get it together, find something to do _ . 

Morty looked around, trying to figure out what he could get his hands on to keep him busy, at least for a second before his eyes landed on the coffee machine. Perfect. And hadn't he told Rick that a cup would be waiting for him? At the time he was joking about blood but now.. Making Rick coffee was starting to sound more and more appealing. 

Quick to rush over Morty stood in front of the thing and tried to take his time, digging out the coffee and the filters slowly, scooping the wonderful smelling grounds out with more care than was really necessary, measuring the water with a keen eyes before finally flipping it on. The vampire listened to the bubbling hiss of steam within, watching as the dark liquid began to drip into the pot with a sigh as he tried his absolute hardest not to rush upstairs and see what was keeping Rick.

 

* * *

 

Despite his clumsy exhaustion it really wasn't that difficult a build; Rick had everything put together fairly quickly and was soon dragging the tank of compressed air and chemicals out of the garage and into the yard, nebulizer strapped to his back and an air gun in hand. 

The scientist trudged around to the front door, double checked the valves on everything and then spraying a steady mist of the mixture across the door, watching as the faintly purple particles floated through the air and collected on just the two vertical glass panels in the door, covering every inch of the glass, and only the glass, with an even, translucent purple sheen that, after almost a minute, slowly faded away, leaving the window clear again and barely noticeably darker. 

Rick looked over the horizon at the slowly lightening sky with a satisfied grin and then turned back to his work, lugging the container over to the big front window and starting the process over again. 

 

* * *

 

Morty drummed his fingers on the counter, staring at the coffee pot. It'd stopped nearly twenty minutes ago, the only sounds coming from its direction being the occasional grunts of the machine trying to drip more steam as the burner beneath the pot kept it nice and hot. The sounds from above had ceased shortly after the coffee finished, leaving Morty more and more worried with no apparent reason to go up but, as the teen looked around with a heavy heart, he decided he didn't really need a reason. He missed Rick, missed him to the point where he couldn't even sit down and relax and if that wasn't issue enough for Rick then fuck him. 

The curly haired boy tugged down a large mug with a snap on lid and filled it to the brim with coffee, black and disgustingly bitter, just how Rick liked it, before snapping the top on. But before he could make his way towards the hatch, the little vampire felt his stomach roll. 

What if it was already light outside? What if he had to deal with that deep throbbing pain all over his body rather than just his arm? 

Morty shivered and rubbed at the recently healed flesh before setting the coffee down and looking around for some sort of protection before finally spotting his blanket with a grin. It'd look ridiculous but it would work. Morty scooped the thing up and quickly wrapped the fabric around his body like a cloak. After giving himself a little makeshift hood Morty grabbed Rick’s cup of coffee once more and made his way to the ladder, easily maneuvering the rungs and the hatch with only one hand, something he definitely wouldn't have been able to do before, and stepped into the garage. Quick with an antsy need to get Rick in his line of vision, Morty traversed the house with familiarity, following the scent of alcohol and exhaustion out into the front yard where Rick was spraying some kind of chemical all over the windows like an exterminator ridding a place of roaches. 

Instantaneous relief filled Morty at the sight of the older man until he saw just how tired Rick looked. His eyes were drooped, his frame appearing almost wilty and Morty started to wonder, with a rush of guilt, when he'd slept last. Probably not for a few days, at least. Morty frowned and took slow steps over towards his grandpa, taking a peek over towards the sky and nearly flinching at the pinkening horizon, his stomach clenching uncomfortably and he quickened his pace, coming to a stop just beside his mentor, holding out the cup like an offering "Uhh, here Rick, I made you coffee."

Rick glanced over at Morty, back at the window quickly to be sure it was fully coated, and then hooked the air gun on his belt and turned to face his grandson with a small, soft look that grew into an amused smile as he took in the sight of the little vampire. 

"H-hey, Morty. Wh-what are you wearing? You look like a hobo." 

He reached past the offered coffee and under Morty's blanket, pulling up the hood of the shirt he knew his grandson was wearing under it. He carefully arranged it so that it hung well in front of Morty's face and then slid the tatty blanket off of the boy and tossed it aside. "There. I got this for you so you wouldn't need to do that; you're safe." 

Rick took the offered mug of coffee and then pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over Morty's hands one at a time, then patted the top of his covered head before he took a long gulp of the hot, bitter drink, sighing happily.

It took everything he had not to nuzzle into Rick's palm and the warmth of his wrist as the older man pulled his hood up around his cheeks, the faintest tint of pink coloring Morty's face as he realized, with startled embarrassment, that the blanket had been unnecessary. He didn't mind though, it made Rick smile and that was all that really mattered. 

Returning the grin, pleased with his new clothes, Morty practically burrowed into his hoodie, keeping his arms covered and he peeked up at Rick from under his hood, eyes alight with amusement, "I just, y'know, thought you'd get a kick out of it. Whatcha doin', Rick?"

"Sure you did, buddy." Rick replied, not fooled one bit but content to let it go. He felt calm and relaxed now that Morty was beside him. The tension he'd built up had all but drained away and left him tired but quietly happy nonetheless. 

Rick nodded toward the big canister beside him, "That keeps the light you can't handle out. Once I finish coating the windows you can wander around the house safely. I've got enough to do your school too, and the car. My ship is already shielded well enough. Th-th-" a huge yawn overtook Rick, and he covered his mouth a little too late before continuing, "that should be enough to keep you safe while I work on a more effective version of the sunscreen I got you." 

Morty's brows pinched together, his lips pulling down into a frown as he took a good long look at Rick. The other man was obviously fatigued and Morty knew the dark circles under his eyes were from more than just drinking and excessive hangovers. Rick’s eyes looked glassy, far away to the point where they almost looked zoned out. His shoulders were slightly hunched and though he didn't show it outwardly, the vampire's frown deepened within his mindscape. That sounded like hard work, both physical and mental, a good handful of hours at the very least, and that wasn’t even counting the time it’d take for Rick to figure out the sunscreen issue. 

Morty wanted to say that his motives were entirely altruistic but the selfish truth of the matter was that Morty knew he'd be spending those hours entirely Rickless and he was more than a little daunted by the idea of having the scientist out of his sights for that long. 

Deciding that he wanted to keep the older man close, Morty wracked his brain for an idea before coming up with something that was, mostly, based on truth with the slightest manipulation, "Oh. I-I-I really appreciate that, Rick, a lot." 

Morty bit his lip purposefully, his fangs peeking out as he stared down at the grass, suddenly incredibly interested in his bare feet, "Would you, umm, y'know, wanna maybe take a -- a break for just a little while? I was feeling kind of lonely and I thought maybe we could just kick it and watch crappy vampire movies."

Rick looked down at Morty. 

The vampire's face was in shadow under his big hood and his eyes were downcast. One viciously sharp, pearly white fang peeked out as he bit his lip. The boy looked adorably shy, and Rick's resolve melted at the sight of him, and the knowledge that Morty had missed him too. He couldn't imagine anything he'd rather be doing than just curling up with his grandson on the couch, and if that was what Morty wanted, more than having the run of the house, then Rick would gladly give it to him. 

"Sure, Morty, yeah. Monster movies it is." He said, turning aside so he could tighten the valve on the big canister and unhook the tube running from it to the nebulizer he had strapped to his back, and then went to pick up the heavy canister before pausing and looking over to Morty with a grin. "Carry that for me. A-and we're not watching Twilight, mister paranormal-romance-novel." 

Part of Morty expected Rick to deny his request in favor of pushing on, getting things done, but the moment Rick agreed the boy was looking up from the ground with a blinding grin, his heart leaping at the idea of spending more time with Rick. 

_ He must have missed me. Must have. Or he's just really tired.. _

Either way Morty was happy and he reached out, giving Rick a joyous little side hug, and easily shrugged the canister over his shoulder. It was light, far lighter than a backpack, but he'd clearly seen Rick's muscles quiver under the strain of handing it to him one handed. 

His obvious strength just made Morty grin even bigger, feeling a bit cocky and he arched a brow at Rick, "A-are you sure, Rick? Jasper Cullen is pretty dreamy." The vampire flashed a toothy grin, "A real southern warrior type, Rick." 

He laughed happily, the corners of his eyes pinched, "I'm just -- just jerkin' your chain Rick. I was thinking  _ Nosferatu! _ Maybe  _ Queen of the Damned? _ Oh! Or  _ Dracula _ !" Morty was bouncing on his toes, all fang exposed grins and eyes lit up with undisguised excitement.

The double whammy of the quick, casual little hug Morty gave him combined with his blindingly happy smile left Rick blinking stupidly after the boy for a second as Morty hefted the heavy canister up onto his shoulder like it was nothing and started walking backwards toward the garage, eyes alight with glee. 

But Rick shook himself after a moment and started after Morty, happy to tease him back, happy just to be around him again without worrying, for the moment, about everything he still had to do. "I d-don't know which one of them that is and I don't want to, you little fanboy. A-and I was thinking  _ Blade, _ or that Tarantino one.. you know, with the Titty Twister? But if you want a vampire main character then alright, we can go old school.  _ Nosferatu _ it is."

Morty threw up a victorious fist in the air, straight  _ Breakfast Club _ style and started humming  _ Don't You (Forget About Me) _ straight from that exact film as he gracefully spun, putting his back to Rick and trotting on ahead to the garage. 

Pausing in the sci-fi workshop that'd become more of a home than anywhere in the rest of the house, Morty spied the cooler and took a quick peek inside, grinning unabashed at the bags of blood he liked, "Hey, you remembered! Thanks, Rick!" 

Morty scooped it up and put the canister in its place so that Rick wouldn't have to haul it back up the ladder in the near future before taking a step back and throwing the hatch open. Lifting the heavy metal lid was a breeze and the pleased little brunet left it wide open for Rick, hopping down in much the same fashion as he had earlier, aside from the superhero landing, cooler in hand and all. 

It was easy, as easy as breathing and Morty wanted nothing more than to dance about it. Something, ironically, that the boy ended up doing as he set down the container by the couch and grabbed a bag from within along with the mug he'd used before going in search of Rick. The dance was nothing special, just a little wiggle of his hips, a quick and carefree little jig on his way to the microwave but it made all the difference, boosting the boy's mood exponentially which, surprisingly enough, seemed nearly impossible with how happy the teen was already. 

The smile seemed almost permanent on his face as he ripped open the bag and dumped it in the cup, sliding it into the microwave with a flourish and pressing the Popcorn button with a snort before tossing a look over his shoulder towards Rick, "Hey Rick, y-you think there's a universe out there populated solely by vampires with nifty bloodsucking foods? Popcorn with blood and butter on top? Coffee with blood instead of creamer?"

 

* * *

 

Rick shook his head, amused, at Morty's antics. He was no John Bender, that was for sure. In fact, in his bright yellow sweater, bouncing along and smiling like an idiot, Rick couldn't imagine anything cuter. And seeing that smile widen again as Morty spied the blood Rick had gone out of his way to get him made the hassle worth it and then some. 

But what really stole his breath away was catching sight of Morty as he spun and wriggled his way around the basement lab as Rick came down the ladder, much more slowly than Morty's superhuman leap. The vampire was so.. ethereal. Smooth and fast and elegant, Morty moved with a grace and easy confidence that Rick envied. He'd always been fast and strong and deft in his own movements, confident in his own body and its limitations, but compared to Morty, Rick wasn't even in the same league. 

It was an odd realisation, and left Rick feeling strangely giddy in addition to his envy. But he pushed those feelings down to answer Morty. "Infinite realities, Morty. I could find you one if you want, or maybe just their cooking channel. I doubt I'd be very safe there, M-morty. Y-you strike me as unique in terms of you- your level of control." 

Morty was eagerly popping open the microwave a second before it could beep and he turned to look at Rick, amusement stamped all over his face, "That would be so cool, Rick. Ugh, I'd sell a kidney to be able to eat sweet and sour chicken." 

Morty smirked and carried his plate across the room, plopping onto the couch and leaving plenty of room for Rick as the vampire bouncing in his seat, "Maybe I could make it with blood in the sauce! Do you think I can, y'know, still digest regular food? I could be a vampire chef, Rick!" 

Morty purposefully avoided mentioning that he burned everything he tried to cook and that he could probably mess up boiling water without trying, content to tease Rick and throw out ridiculous ideas while he watched the older man set everything up, "I've never seen  _ Nosferatu _ before! I hope it's good!"

Rick turned from tugging down a projector screen bolted to the ceiling in the middle of the room that he used for going over large schematics to look over at Morty as the vampire babbled excitedly. "I'll let you decide when you want to run- t-to run that uh, that experiment, Morty. I don't know much about it." He quickly turned back and kept talking, refusing to let himself get dragged down by that memory again. Not while Morty was in such a good mood. "B-but if you can then how about this, I promise I'll cook you whatever you want. Pinky swear." 

He turned on the projector and came back to the couch with a tablet in-hand and sat down next to Morty with a sigh, moving on without looking over at Morty so he couldn't see the boy's reaction to his embarrassingly sappy promise. "I-it's a silent film, Morty, are you sure you want to watch it? I mean, it's good, I think you'd like it. B-but I wasn't kidding about it being old-school." 

Morty was touched by the gesture and Rick's promise but the curly haired teen was also a bit surprised. He probably shouldn't have been considering that Rick was a genius and he excelled at whatever he put his mind to but the scientist’s proclaimed ability to cook still took the brunet by surprise, "I-I didn't know you could cook, Rick." 

The boy's tone was soft, his awe a gentle undertone to the statement but it was quickly eclipsed by his excitement for the movie. 

Unbeknownst to Rick, Morty absolutely loved silent films. He loved anything in black and white, the older the better, and he sat up straight, like an eager puppy about to get a treat, nodding wildly, his curls flopping like a pair of labrador ears, "That just makes it better, Rick!"

"You're a weird kid, Morty. What kind of teenager likes silent films? I was just getting used to your regrettable Twilight thing, too, but then you had to go and have layers." He reached out and ruffled Morty's hair playfully and then, more seriously, said, "I taught your mother to cook, Morty. Your grandmother couldn't boil water without burning it, and I loved to cook long before I loved chemistry, which is significantly harder. She always used to joke that she only married me so that she wouldn't starve." 

Rick trailed off and then continued, voice filled with old regret. "I made sure Beth could cook well enough for the both of them when things started to get bad and I started to worry that I wouldn't be staying there much longer." 

The regret in Rick's voice, the pain of old wounds long since crusted over but never fully healed made Morty want to say something, to protect Rick in some way, but the teen knew that you couldn't protect somebody from the past, couldn't protect them from the scars that already lined the foundation of their soul and Morty was well aware of that. 

Regardless of the pain, it was still nice, those scraps of information. Rick was always so secretive, so tight lipped about the events of his life before he came back to the family and Morty cherished the information before blurting, "Even if I can't eat will y-you teach me how to cook, Rick?" 

The vampire appeared momentarily shy before finally admitting, "I-I can't make much more than a sandwich and cereal, y’know, basic stuff but I've always wanted to learn. Mom is usually busy.. Y'know, with my dad so I’ve never really.." Morty trailed off, feeling his own pain for the moment, a ghost of the loneliness that'd plagued his life before Rick, before he had somebody to watch out for him, to genuinely care about him.

The echo of pain in Morty's words caught Rick's attention, and he felt a pang run through him at the obvious loneliness in Morty's voice. That his grandson would want to learn to cook even if he could no longer eat what he made felt incredibly sad to Rick, a sign of something long denied to Morty. It felt, to him, like the boy was after that connection that came from learning from someone else, the way Rick always thought of his mother when he cooked and the way Beth had told him, when they were both far too drunk and raw and open in the middle of the night, sitting in the kitchen and keeping their voices lowered so they wouldn't wake the rest of the house, that she had always felt more connected to him when she'd cooked, that it had made her feel less alone while he'd been gone. Rick hoped Morty could eat solid food, that he wouldn’t be restricted to nothing other than blood. He hoped he could give that to Morty. It would be nice to know that the vampire would have something positive to remember Rick by once he was gone and Morty was living the rest of his now-eternal life. But he'd teach the boy either way if that was what he wanted. 

He'd do an awful lot simply because Morty asked for it, a fact that he'd somehow managed to keep under wraps fairly well so far. 

"Tell you what, Morty. You help me work out how to improve on that sunscreen and learn the recipe well enough to make a batch yourself and I'll teach you to cook anything and everything you want to know. How's that?"

Rick quickly queued up the film, starting to ramble in order to fill the silence. "Anyway, you ready? They weren't supposed to have made this, you know, they ripped off the Dracula book. They got sued for it and were supposed to have destroyed all the copies, but of course they didn't. That's why they never say vampire in the movie. They were trying to dodge the copyright."

The curly haired vampire listened attentively to Rick's little bit of trivia and grinned, "Jeez, Rick, that's actually pretty nifty!" 

Rick continued to distract Morty with interesting facts about the film after he'd spoken, quickly dimming the lights and playing the movie before relaxing into the cushions. But he forgot all about the bits and bobs he knew about the film when he felt Morty slowly ease his way into laying against him, snuggling into his side and moulding his body against Rick's. It made his breath catch, and he went quiet and still, his gaze darting down to Morty’s curly hair before he forced himself to look back at the screen.

There was just something about the dark, something that made the vampire feel less afraid of the potential rejection, as though he was less of a vampire and more of just.. Himself. More  _ Morty _ . And somehow that made it less intimidating to lay against Rick. The length of Morty’s back was pressed intimately against Rick's flank, his head resting against the scientist's shoulder and though he was all sorts of sprawled out, there was still plenty of room for his grandpa to stretch if he wanted to. 

As promised, the movie was silent, the screen being the only light in the hatch aside from the blinking eyes of Rick's many inventions, and Morty could feel the calm and relaxing intimacy of the moment, the peace. It was easy to be with Rick this way. There were no expectations, nothing he needed to be, no need to pretend, he could just exist, side by side with Rick. 

Remembering what the older man said about Morty being odd for liking silent movies about twenty minutes into the film, the vampire turned his face up towards Rick's, and spoke softly. "Words don't mean anything, Rick. People say them a-all the time, y'know? People are j-just -- they’re just actors. They pretend for everyone else. But with silent movies.. There's no lies. Just actions. Y-you feel their truth, what they're trying to convey and you have to be convinced b-by what they do rather than swayed by what they say. It's more real, Rick." Morty turned back towards the screen, his voice becoming even softer, "Sometimes life is stranger than fiction, Rick, but sometimes it's a lot more similar to movies and stories than we'd like to believe."

Rick was still entirely unable to drag his focus fully from Morty, from the weight of the boy’s body as it leaned against his side, and he found that he’d missed most of the beginning of the film because of it, but when Morty spoke softly, low and intimate and dreamy in the close darkness, he finally started to relax, allowing the contact soothe him. 

He let himself begin to sprawl as he considered Morty's words, thinking about how the boy had promised to prove to him how much he cared about him as he shifted a few bare inches at a time. Then Rick grinned to himself in the darkness and started to squirm around in earnest, uncurling the leg he'd been sitting on and tucking it in between Morty and the back of the couch and wiggling the other up under Morty's knees, shifting about until he'd managed to not only steal much more than his half of the space but also stretch both legs out along the full length of the couch. 

Finally, once he’d successfully stolen all the space he could while still sitting up, Rick flopped back all at once so that he could lay along the entirety of the couch, dragging Morty down with him in the process so that his grandson slid down Rick's chest until he was lying spooned up against his front with barely any space between him and the edge of the couch to lay in. The older man’s grin turned smug as he luxuriated in the lion's share of the space, enjoying the expanse of room he’d managed to hoard as he shifted around once more until he was laying comfortably on his side. 

Morty's body was warm against him, radiating Rick’s own borrowed body heat, and his words had soaked into the scientist, making him feel better the more he thought about them, about what Morty might be reading from his own actions and about what Rick could glean from Morty's. He was starting to feel, finally, like everything would be okay, and it let him turn his attention to the movie at last as he let one hand rest on Morty's hip with a sigh, tension draining out of him.

* * *

Morty could feel the tension in Rick's body behind him, the way his muscles got tight and ready to spring, genuine fight or flight, and the boy prepared to either be physically moved or to receive a verbal assault for being so clingy but as minutes stretched out, he received neither. In the face of his grandpa’s unspoken acceptance, Morty relaxed and sunk deeper against Rick's body, becoming the absolute epitome of comfort. 

That is, until Rick started to wiggle and move. 

At first it wasn't a big deal. Rick just stretched out his legs, shifted a bit further down the couch before finally relaxing but as time passed, the movements became more and more space consuming, leaving Morty nearly falling off the couch. Part of him assumed that Rick was being a dick and not so subtly trying to get away from him, but when the other man finally laid all the way down, hauling the vampire into a spooning position, Morty knew otherwise. 

Facing the screen where Rick couldn't see him, the younger man smirked. Rick was like a child, pushing their luck further and further and further still until they finally got the thing they originally wanted to begin with.  _ Maybe a cat is more accurate. _ Morty chuckled quietly at the thought before falling silent once again and just laying beside Rick, enjoying the minimal amount of space between them. 

He should have been uncomfortable, maybe even awkward considering the recent series of odd thoughts and feelings that he'd been having about his grandpa but all Morty felt was comfort. Sheer and utter safety. Proving too much of a temptation to resist, Morty finally leaned back against Rick's body, eating up that last bit of space between them and he nearly shivered at the warm abundance of human body heat that was pressed against him from behind.

And the brunet couldn't help but to feel right.

He felt at ease laying there, snuggled up against Rick in a position that was, more often than not, one usually chosen by lovers. There was nowhere else he would've rather been than right where he was, spooned up on a couch with Rick, watching a silent film in the dark. It felt like a lifetime, relaxing and just watching what was happening in utter silence. It was comfortable. The silent series of moments lacked strain; it lacked the recurring bouts of awkwardly perceived emotion and change the duo seemed to have fought with near constantly in the last few hours and Morty couldn’t help but to feel grateful. They were enjoying each others company, snickering at the ridiculous nature of the film, trading a few quiet words here and there and generally having a good time but eventually, as all things must, the movie ended. 

Just as Rick stated earlier, Morty had, in fact, enjoyed it. Maybe more than he probably should have considering his species change but it was a good laugh. It was a much needed burst of humor in a serious and not so funny transitional period in his life, and Morty was grateful. However, when the teen glanced back towards Rick, intending to tell him as much, Morty was startled to realize that Rick was  _ asleep. _

It seemed almost unnatural to see Rick sleeping. 

It was a sight that Morty rarely ever saw. Passed out from getting too drunk? That was a given. He'd rolled Rick onto his side to make sure the man didn’t drown in his own puke more times than the teen could count, but this was different. This was easy, normal,  _ natural _ human sleep. 

And it was beautiful. 

The signs of strain normally found in Rick's features, alongside his near ever present scowl, were smoothed out and replaced by a look of peace. He looked years younger, looked like a man who hadn't yet bore the horrors of the universe, the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and Morty found himself holding his breath as he stared into Rick's sleeping face, afraid of waking him up. He was so vulnerable, so open, and it was at that point that Morty realized just how much Rick must trust him to openly sleep beside him. If Rick didn't want to sleep, if he wasn’t comfortable doing so, then he wouldn't. Exhaustion be damned. Morty knew from first hand experience that, if he really wanted to, the scientist could stay up for days on end, no matter  _ how _ tired he was. 

This wasn’t an accident. 

Rick had allowed himself to fall asleep. 

He'd been so relaxed, so at peace with his surroundings, that it'd happened naturally and that realization left Morty's heart in his throat, making it hard to breathe. 

Careful, watching Rick's face for any sign that he was about to wake up, the vampire reached up and ran a gentle finger over the curve of Rick's cheek. It was soft, the skin warm and thin, a scatter of incredibly fine hairs covering his skin and Morty's heart slammed. It felt like he was coming back to life, again, like he was discovering something that'd always been right in front of his face but that he'd been too stupid or ignorant to see.  _ Rick was human. _ He wasn't infallible. He wasn't a god, wasn’t omniscient. He was just a man, a man who meant more to the little curly haired vampire than anything and as Morty laid there, looking into his companion's face, all he could think about was how much he loved Rick. 

There wasn’t anything Morty would deny Rick, no matter what it was. If Rick asked, if he wanted something and made it known, Morty would do it.There was nothing the man could say that would push the vampire away for good, nothing that he could do that would make Morty stop loving him, stop looking up to him. He loved Rick unconditionally, and that knowledge left the brunet’s throat tight with emotion. 

Turning over, facing Rick directly, the boy snugged in closer. The vampire’s soft curls pressed up under Rick's chin, his ear directly over the older man’s heart, and in the darkness of the hatch Morty let the strong, rhythmic beat lull him to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Clair here! I know this one took a bit and Sqk and I apologize there's just been a lot going on for both of us, in both the RP and our real lives but we've got an awesome chapter for you! The first tentative steps have been taken! Also, I just wanted to say.. There's been a couple comments and people that I've talked to who seem to think that this story was only written by one person and that's definitely not the case lol This work has been 100% 50/50 and I couldn't possibly have done it without Sqk. She's the most fantastic Rick and I honestly couldn't have asked for a better RP partner. I just really wanted to make a mention of that because I couldn't possibly have done all of this on my own and Sqk definitely deserves the recognition for all the hard work she's put into this as well. That said! We're incredibly happy to be putting this latest chapter out there! Enjoy lovely sinners(: 
> 
> With love,  
> Clair & Sqk

Rick came awake gradually, feeling relaxed and utterly content, his mind moving slow as he pulled himself out of a sleep like warm taffy rather than sharply and suddenly as was his custom. It wasn't until he blinked his eyes open, though, that he remembered why he felt that way, when he saw the reason curled up around him, clinging like a limpet. Rick had turned to lay on his back sometime while they'd slept, with Morty turning to face him as well. The boy was laying against his side and mostly on top of him now, one leg thrown across both of Rick's, one arm wrapped around his chest, and with his head resting directly over Rick's heart. The warmth all along his side that had kept him comfortable in the cool subterranean temperature of the basement was Morty, soaking up his own body heat and insulating him with it, Rick's very own unliving blanket. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up and been so utterly content, so eager to stay in the moment rather than rushing off to the next distraction, whether that be a project that he couldn't stop thinking about or a drink to dull his sharp mind enough to keep it from slashing him to bits. But there was nothing Rick would rather do than continue to lay here with his grandson. He watched Morty's face, tilted up toward Rick's and half hidden against his sweater, lips parted and fangs peeking out between them. The boy was breathing, but only intermittently, inhaling deeply and then holding it for an impossibly long moment, then breathing out with a soft little sound and the occasional little nuzzle into his sweater. 

One of Rick's arms was curled behind his head but the other was resting on the small of Morty's back, keeping the boy against him, and Rick pulled him just a little closer with that hand as a wave of aching affection flooded his system at the picture the vampire made. But that tightening grip seemed to flip a switch somewhere in Morty, or maybe just in Rick's perception of him, because he was suddenly and wholly aware of how intimately close the two of them were. 

Morty's sleep pants were thin and the teen was practically straddling his hip; his focus became riveted to the slow swell of Morty's erection pressing into him, pulsing to life inch by inch with each beat of Rick’s heart. Morty breathed out another sigh, breathy and uninhibited, entirely unselfconscious in sleep, and the vampire undulated against him, curling closer, holding tighter, rubbing.. rubbing his body along Rick's muscles like a snake, with a strength and power that was alien and oh-so tempting. Like a dam had burst inside of him, Rick was abruptly more turned on than he could remember being in a very  _ very _ long time. 

Rick had a type, and it wasn't redheads. The genius had always been hot for power, for his partner to be more than himself in some way. More limbs, more strength, more bodies, more senses. It didn't matter how, but to have the focus of a being that could destroy him as easily as it could bring him pleasure, that bent to his will or bent him anyway it wanted, that had always called to him. 

And that was all this was, this flood of endorphins coursing through him at the casual strength Morty displayed while he used Rick's body to chase the friction he wanted. He wouldn't let it be anything else. Morty was powerful, and Rick cared for him more than any other being in existence.. and he could probably do with a few more sexual hangups if he went by not just Earth's standards, but rather a lot of other planets as well. That was definitely all this was, and he wouldn't let his own sick mind ruin the one good thing in his life, the one thing he knew, with a terrible certainty that only came from experience, that he couldn't bare to live without. Rick shuddered against Morty and, after one long pause spent both memorising every single thing about this moment and denying that he was doing any such thing, pulled his arm out from behind his head, released the tight hold he'd had on the small of Morty's back and started to try and disentangle himself from his octopus of a grandson without waking him up.

 

* * *

 

Enveloped in the unbelievably warm cocoon of tangled limbs and shared body heat, Morty slept on, all but unaware of the world around him. Part of his mind was still present, still aware of the outside world in the vaguest and most detached sense of the word, but for the most part Morty was dead to the world with his limbs wrapped protectively around the heat beside him. 

Slowly, flickers of awareness seeped in, guided by the hot pooling of pleasure in his groin and Morty chased after the feeling, unabashed in his actions as he circled his hips, gasping softly as he rocked against the firm heat of the body below, his lips parting in a gentle whisper of a moan. But suddenly his comfort was shaken as his pillow began to move, squirming and detaching himself, and Morty's brows pulled together in displeasure and he murmured unhappily, clinging shamelessly to the warm figure. 

Unnaturally strong, the sleepy vampire tightened his hold on the companion trying to slip away, even on the outskirts of consciousness careful not to harm him, and Morty drove his hips against the swell between his legs, breathing out an airy and aroused gasp of Rick's name, holding the body below even closer, refusing to allow his comfort to wiggle away, no matter how insistent.

A bit more awake due to his companion's quest to disturb him, Morty breathed in the delicious smell surrounding him. It was warm. One hundred percent human and all-encompassing in its loveliness, the scent filled his senses so completely that Morty almost felt as though he was drunk on it, intoxicated by the scent of sleep warmed skin, rushing blood and the incredibly tantalizing smell of that spicy and ensnaring emotion he’d only smelled once before and still couldn't name. It was all around him, wrapping the brunet in a blanket of pure bliss, and Morty tilted his head up, seeking more of it and was met with hot skin, blood just below the surface. A little whimper echoed in his throat and Morty latched on, pressing his parted lips to the subtly salty column of the older man's throat. 

Despite the temptation of an easily accessed breakfast, Morty couldn't be bothered by the rush of sustenance below. He was content with sucking softly on the warm skin he'd found, the flat surface of his fangs gently gliding over Rick's flesh as Morty suckled tiny marks into the man's neck, still almost completely out of it as he became even more of an octopus, sliding his leg in between both of Rick's, keeping the man held captive with his body and his strength, sleepily begging him not to go.

 

* * *

 

Rick's escape attempt wasn't working.  _ Oh god, was it ever not working. _ Morty simply wasn't having it, stilling his movements with an embarrassing ease that stole Rick's breath away and an unhappy little sound that burned its way through his mind with its sleepy heat. His arms were pinned, held firmly and gently against his sides with a strength like steel bars that only became obvious when he tried to writhe away once more. Rick squirmed harder, telling himself it wasn't simply to feel Morty tighten his grip on him warningly in a silent command to stay still as the vampire started to rut against his hip in earnest. 

He couldn't get away, couldn't stop Morty from maneuvering his body however his grandson most wanted him, from using him; Rick felt lightheaded with how fast the blood rushed to his own rapidly swelling erection at that thought. But when Morty gasped his name, the heat of the word pooling against his chest where Morty's open mouth was still pressed and sinking straight into the core of him, Rick lost all pretense of trying to get away. He went limp, letting Morty pull him down against the rhythmic movement of the vampire’s hips, feeling the borrowed heat of Morty's body, the heat that came from being pressed so intimately close to his own body for so long, and letting it sear into him. 

Morty's grip softened, his hands petting instead of grasping, like he was rewarding Rick for his capitulation, and it was only a clinging, tiny little voice in the back of his mind that screamed that Morty was doing no such thing, that he was asleep and completely unaware of what he was doing, that he’d said Rick's name because he could smell him subconsciously, rubbed against him because he was a teenage boy with no self control to speak of. 

_ Like you're one to talk. _

That voice was getting louder though, forcing him to start to listen, before it, along with every single thought in Rick's mind, went utterly silent as Morty latched onto his neck and started to suck. Rick's body quivered and a broken, desperate whisper of sound escaped him, but he didn't notice. He didn't notice anything except the scrape of Morty's fangs, the sharp pull of the blood rising to the surface of his skin, as desperate to obey Morty's sucking lips as Rick was to let the vampire sink his fangs into him. 

There was no denying it right now; from the instant that Morty had first nuzzled into the delicate skin of his wrist he'd wanted Morty to give in, to take what he wanted. Rick wanted to give Morty everything, to feed him, sustain him, to give Morty life,  _ his life, _ doled out with each hot mouthful of blood as his grandson drank him down. He wanted to care for Morty, to take care of him.. wanted to give Morty everything, and the desire was so powerful, so overwhelmingly strong that it scared Rick, scared him enough to pull him out of the haze of lust and heady desire that had held him in thrall. 

_ Oh god what am I doing? _

He'd let himself believe, for a moment, that he couldn't stop this, that he didn't need to think, didn’t need to hold himself under the tight, stifling control that he maintained at all times, but he did. _ He did _ . And he wasn't some swooning, weak willed slave to his desires, or to Morty's unconscious will. He was Rick  _ fucking _ Sanchez and he wouldn't let himself ruin his and his grandson’s relationship. Nothing was more important to him than that, _ nothing. _ He would care for Morty, and take care of him. He wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way of that, especially himself. 

"Morty!" Rick said, voice sharp and harsh and loud compared to the rustling movement and breathy sounds of a moment ago, body held tense and still once more.

 

* * *

 

Morty was abruptly startled from sleep by Rick's angry, unyielding, no nonsense voice. 

It was the tone that caught his attention, one Rick only used when Morty  _ needed  _ to pay attention, when it was important and, sometimes, when they were about to step into a situation that was life or death. It was loud, echoing to the young vampire, and it was also less than an inch away from his ear. 

The barked sound made the boy jerk up in wild panic, eyes flying sleepily open, still glassy and mostly unaware, drool clinging to his chin, his lips slightly swollen from sucking Rick's neck, hair all pressed down on one side the rest tangled every which way like a fucked up nest, "Wuzzit? Wuzzit Rick, we 'nder att'ck?" 

Morty went to pull back and yelped as he was suddenly falling backwards off the couch, landing painfully on the unforgiving concrete with a low groan. The teen dragged himself into more of a seated position and rubbed his eyes, yawning long and hard before looking tiredly up at Rick with a sleepy grin as last night started to come back to him, "G'mornin' Rick."

 

* * *

 

The way Morty came awake and alert, or mostly so, at Rick's command so beautifully and then gracelessly tumbled off of him was so startlingly hilarious that it made Rick snicker, the tension coiled up inside of him releasing abruptly as he laughed, and his heart melted at the sight of the vampire smiling innocently up from the ground at him and showing his fangs in a sweet little yawn through wet, swollen lips. 

Rick turned onto his side with lazy grace, purposely letting his leg hang casually over the edge of the couch to hide his erection as his hand reached out to comb through Morty's hair and fluff his curls away from their squished-flat, bed-head look. He didn't want to hurt Morty's feelings now that he was out of the danger zone, and he was slowly pulling his emotions back under control without Morty's sleepy assault on his self control to contend with, so Rick’s voice was calm and relaxed as he spoke.

"Good morning, buddy. A-and chill, the only thing under attack was my shining virtue, Morty. Y-y-y-you were treating me like your own personal blood popsicle in your sleep." 

Rick arched his head back to bare the marks he could feel throbbing to life down the column of his neck, letting his eyes slip closed lackadaisically over the smug heat filling him up as a sense memory of Morty sucking on his throat overtook him. It was an emotion that he shouldn't feel at the idea of being marked up.. being claimed and obviously so, by the vampire. _ By your grandson, and nope, bad thoughts, none of that. _ And it was definitely an emotion that Morty shouldn't see from him.

 

* * *

Morty rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes and leaned into Rick's casual display of affection almost unconsciously, like a dog pushing up against the compassionate hand of their master, and he smiled at his grandpa’s tone. He'd honestly thought there was an emergency, that his newfound vampire strength was about to be put to the test, and he was happy, for the most part, that he was wrong. His happiness was short lived though because as Rick's statement finally filtered through and he caught sight of the scientist's head tilted back, baring his throat and exposing the darkening marks, Morty felt his mouth go dry. They looked completely natural there and as Morty continued to stare his fangs started to ache, making his stomach cramp with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with blood, and everything to do with  _ possession _ . 

The hickey blooming so beautifully against Rick's skin made Morty want to growl; it awoke something low and primal inside of him, something ancient and instinctual and before he could stop the thought, the teen was imagining how Rick would look  _ covered _ in possessive marks, how he would look collared by a ring of hickeys and bitemarks. The vampire imagined Rick willingly baring his throat for him to feed from, to bite and suck and do with as he pleased and the boy's eyes went dark, pupils expanding with hunger. 

A little voice in the back of his mind screamed that he was imagining  _ Rick _ , his grandfather, a man old enough to be his father twice over, but Morty honestly didn't care. He wanted him. Wanted his blood, his body, his mind. Morty wanted him right down to the amino acids, to the double helix of his DNA strands, but the voice in the back of his mind was growing louder, more anxious and insisting, reminding him that Rick didn't share his sentiment, that he was going to ruin everything, that he needed to stop, to pull back before Rick  _ saw. _

That last part startled the teen from his desire and he looked on with horror. 

"O-oh jeez, Rick! I'm really sorry. I-I-I didn't mean to, y'know, try and snack on you." Morty offered a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and ducked his head, looking down at the concrete and praying to every deity he'd ever heard of that Rick hadn't seen the darkened lust in his eyes, or if he did, that the older man would think that it was some vampire thing and not comment on it.

Luckily for Morty, Rick was far too busy hiding his own reaction to pay attention to Morty's until the boy spoke up, causing him to open his eyes and sleepily take in the sight of the younger man again. His gaze flickered down to Morty's lap without his permission before darting back up and away, but he'd already seen that the way Morty was splayed out on the floor was doing nothing to hide the erection he'd been so recently grinding into Rick's hip. 

"D-don't worry about it, Morty. But come on, a vampire with an oral fixation? Living the cliché much?" He said, avoiding what was, for him, the obvious elephant in the room. Even if Morty put two and two together, Rick was hoping the younger man simply wouldn't bring it up, and he could shove it all down and put his well honed avoidance skills to work. 

The faintest blush colored Morty's pale cheeks at Rick's comment but before he could get the words out to respond in kind, Morty was practically choking on them at the dull throb in his groin and the faint bitter scent of precum. 

Alarmed eyes glanced down and, for the first time since Rick woke him so suddenly, he realized that he was painfully hard. The teen yelped, his cheeks instantly darkening and he scrambled to close his legs realizing, with more than a bit of shame, that Rick hadn't been so adamant about getting him to wake up solely because of the unconscious sucking. 

_ He's probably disgusted, just like you would be if you weren't such a freak _ . 

The brutally harsh reality of his thoughts left Morty to stare at the ground, his stomach knotting painfully and part of the teen wanted to cry, the other half urging him to flee, but he was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to say, cursing his awkwardness and his inability to be even vaguely  _ normal _ in any area of his life.

 

* * *

_ Well fuck. _

Morty's supremely unsubtle scramble would have been enough to force a reaction out of Rick on it’s own, but seeing the miserable look on the boy’s face and the tears that pooled in Morty's eyes meant that the older man wouldn't be avoiding shit until he'd reassured the little ball of angst masquerading as his grandson that he wasn't mad at him, or whatever equally anxious thoughts were probably running through the vampire's head right now.

"Morty, Morty, didn't I just tell you to chill?" He said, reaching out and toying with the boy's hair once more, hoping to provoke that same puppyish reaction he loved so much out of his grandson again.

"Y-you know, some of the lore on vampires says they can't get it up. You should be thanking your lucky stars right now, c-can you imagine living like _ that _ forever? But I should've known that something as simple as a lack of circulation wouldn't stand a chance a-against  _ your _ teenage hormones." Rick chuckled and smiled down at Morty, wanting so badly for them to be okay, and letting that show in his expression, though it went against everything in him that told him to hide away, to keep anything that made him vulnerable hidden deep within.

Morty was mortified, of course. He'd been snuggled up to Rick with morning wood and, in all likelihood, the older man had probably felt it at some point upon waking, but it was impossible to stay embarrassed when Rick was using that gentle, ribbing tone. It wasn't the one Rick used to tear into him, or the angry one he used when he was especially drunk, wasn't even the one he most commonly used to flick Morty shit.. No. It was the gentle tone, the one that he'd first heard right after.. after.. Morty swallowed down that incomplete thought, not wanting to dwell on that in the least right now. Instead he focused on Rick’s voice. It was a tone of understanding, but also lightheartedness, one that instantly made Morty feel better, and he knew, instinctively, that Rick wasn't disgusted. Alarmed maybe, but not disgusted. 

Morty looked up with a watery smile, grateful when he felt his erection start to fade and the teen stared into Rick's eyes, transfixed. There was vulnerability there, a sort of openness he wasn't used to seeing. Rick was always guarded, in one way or another; there was always something reserved about him, but his gaze felt completely exposed to Morty, a show of faith and trust, a reassurance to the little brunet that things were okay and Morty's smile immediately returned, bright and sunny. It seemed impossible not to smile around Rick, especially with how understanding the older man was being, with how close he was allowing the vampire to be without pushing him away and Morty loved it. 

"Hey Rick, do you think Summer is still in school? Can we go upstairs a-a-and make pancakes? Please?"

Rick let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding as Morty smiled up at him, like the first beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm. He looked away, hiding his own smile, and pulled back his sleeve to check the watch there that was set to local time. 

"Sure, Morty. We've got a few hours still. Do me a favour though and make me some coffee down here while I go up and spray the rest of the downstairs windows, okay?" He sat up, rubbing one hand through his hair until it stuck up once more in its trademark messy spikes and then yawning and scratching under his sweater at his stomach absentmindedly. 

Morty jumped up in a flurry of motion, all grins and loose limbs, no longer the least bit self conscious of his own body and he raced towards the underground kitchen, "Sure thing, Rick!" 

As he was getting ready though, tossing out the wet grounds from the night before and putting it a fresh batch, he got an idea. Looking over his shoulder at Rick with a pleased look, Morty babbled excitedly, "Hey Rick, what do you think about coffee with blood for creamer?"

"Y-you know I like it black, Morty." Rick said with a laugh, standing and walking up behind the little vampire. "Why, are you feeling adventurous?"

Morty giggled and glanced upward, back at Rick with undisguised amusement, "Black like your heart, Rick." Morty couldn't help but to gently prod the older man with his elbow, obviously teasing before looking back at the coffee pot, "I was talking about me though, Rick."

The teen smirked, "Not everything is about you, old man." Morty flicked the coffee pot on, inhaling the scent of quick brew as it immediately started to drip into the pot, "I just thought, y'know, maybe I'd try it."

Rick let out a mock scandalised gasp and said, "Morty! Everything  _ is _ about me, you take that back. A-and I may be old but at least I won't look like a shrimpy teenage boy for eternity. You're still going to get carded at the ripe old age of 100." 

Rick stepped away and rifled through the fridge as he spoke, pulling out a bag of blood and dropping it on the counter between them. 

"Here, Kybuck meat is sweet and fatty, maybe their blood is, too." He said, then he lingered nearby, leaning his hip on the counter and watching Morty despite having said he would go up and get the kitchen ready just a moment ago. He was enjoying his grandson's company too much to drag himself away.

Morty's face morphed into a look of horror that was only half joking at the realization that he'd have a baby face for eternity and that he was going to look seventeen,  _ forever _ . 

The vampire groaned in displeasure, "Jeez Rick, I'm never gonna be able to do anything." 

As the vibrant haired genius dropped the blood on the counter, Morty grabbed two large mugs and set them down, pouring Rick's black coffee first and handing it to him and then pouring the second cup, only filling it about half way, and putting the pot back. Nimble fingers weighed the blood in his palm, noting that it was a bit thicker, a little heavier than the other types he tried, before he carefully scored a small hole in the corner of the protective plastic with one of his fangs. 

Curious about whether his companion was right or not, Morty dipped his pinky in the bag and pulled it free, sucking blood from the digit with a soft little moan of bliss. Rick, clever as always, was right about the flavor. It was almost like sucking melted ice cream from his fingertips, sweet and thick, and Morty was immediately dumping it into his coffee, watching with greedy eyes as the liquid in the cup rose and lightened a few shades. Unsure of what to do with the remainder of the bag, Morty gulped it down with surprising eagerness. It was a bit rich, maybe a little too sweet by itself, but he enjoyed it none the less before casting the plastic aside and lifting his cup. 

The vampire looked at it with slight weariness, a bit worried about what would happen should the liquid not agree with him but he took a cautious sip regardless and his worries melted away in a shameless moan of taste bud bliss. The coffee itself was rich, bold and dark in contrast to the sweetness. He'd thought the blood by itself was a little too rich but it was utterly perfect in combination with the coffee's bitterness and suddenly, before he realized it, Morty had emptied the mug, licking his lips, savoring every last drop.

 

* * *

 

Rick laughed at Morty's horror-struck face and took a slow sip from the mug the teen handed him, eyes trained on his grandson. He watched as Morty sucked a taste of the blood from his fingertip, a slow smile spreading across his face at the obvious pleasure Morty took from the flavour of it, then bit his lip, hiding it behind his mug, at Morty's little sound of pleasure as well. 

He didn't want to notice it, didn't want every little move the boy made, every sound, to hold such a draw to him, but he couldn't seem to stop. It was like Morty's sleepy little inadvertent seduction had unstoppered something in him, something he was having a hell of a time locking away again. 

But the vampire's giddy, greedy reaction to being able to consume more than just blood was enough of a distraction for Rick to put aside his fascination and focus on what that meant for Morty, and the promise he'd made the boy last night. 

"Looks like we've both got a lot of experimentation to do. Cooking with blood is going to be.. interesting."

Morty sidestepped Rick and set his mug in the sink, casually rinsing it out as his mind went a mile a minute, thinking of all the things he could possibly make, all the foods he could eat if he figured out how to incorporate blood into their composition and without even really thinking about it, the vampire casually mentioned, "Blood has the same texture and consistency of egg whites." 

He stuck the mug back up onto the counter with a grin, reminding himself to check for another ‘#1 Dad’ mug while they were upstairs before continuing without thought, "Did you know that you could make meringue with blood and it'd turn out absolutely fine?"

Rick blinked, absorbing that little tidbit of information. 

"Damn, Morty. Look at you, pulling out the freaky facts." He nudged Morty in the side with his elbow, grinning down at him as he filled his mug up again. 

"Like I said, my grandson has layers." Rick's voice was proud, almost smug, like Morty's eccentricities were something Rick could take credit for. But in the next second that smugness melted away and Rick was smiling softly and reaching out to run his fingers through Morty's hair again, smoothing it away from the vampire's forehead.

Cheeks a tiny bit pink, Morty grinned down at the counter, bashfully aware of the pride in Rick's voice but that accomplished sense of joy and self worth acted as a double edged sword, reminding the boy of the past. 

Before Rick's grand entrance into his life, he'd long since given up trying to make either of his parents proud. Too obsessed with one-upping each other and the steady decline of their marriage, both of his parents had proved to be too wrapped up in their own shortcomings to offer him any sense of self accomplishment in the form of pride or recognition. He was always one step behind; too slow, not smart enough, too shy. As he grew older, coming into his own likes and dislikes, Morty found himself more subtly estranged from the family than ever before. His parents, and Summer to an extent, strove to fit in, to be normal. They had a nice house, average jobs, decent income. Two kids, a dog. Everything but the white picket fence and they tried to keep it that way. 

Unfortunately, for Morty, he didn't fit that mold. Not really. 

He remained within his own head, hiding his interests, the tidbits of random trivia that he enjoyed, morbid curiosities and odd interests, buried his eccentricity below fake smiles and boring hobbies, never quite coming out from beneath the oppression forced upon him by the ever present need to, somehow, make his parents proud, to make them see him. 

But Rick.. Rick turned that all over, forced the idea on its head. 

There was no normal when it came to Rick. Nothing was weird, nothing was too far or too outlandish and, with his arrival and their subsequent adventures, came the escape Morty needed to begin to show himself. Rick spoke of Morty having layers, but in reality, Rick was the one to help give him layers, the only one who bothered to peel him back and question what was within. There was a time when the comment about meringue would have never crossed his lips. He would have died before uttering something so weird and out of place, but it was barely a blip on Rick's radar, not with all they'd seen. Where Rick was concerned, there was no need to hide it, no need to pretend to be anything other than what he was, because the truth was that Rick  _ hated _ normalcy. 

From the many rants he'd endured, Morty knew that Rick viewed it as a societal form of oppression, a way to dumb down the populace and subject them to ideas that weren't their own, to make them easier to control. At first Morty had balked at the idea, the controversy of it all, but eventually he'd realized, with startling clarity, that  _ Rick was right. _ Rick was right about a lot of things, a lot of things Morty had thought him crazy for, but Rick was brilliant and Morty was lucky to have him, lucky that there was one person in his life that he could be real with, that wanted to see who he really was. That just wanted him for him. 

So utterly submerged in his own thoughts, the teen was nearly startled when Rick ran his fingers through his curls, a sad but affectionate smile curving Morty's lips and without having to really think about it, Morty turned and hugged Rick, careful of his coffee. It wasn't like last time. It wasn't the desperate, clinging need to hold Rick close as it’d been after his shower. Instead, the hug was just a warm embrace, one where Morty laid his cheek over the thunder of Rick's heart and wrapped his arms around the older man's body, his fingers splayed against Rick's back and he whispered out a quiet ‘thank you’, not bothering to explain the nature of his statement. 

Morty stood there for a second, absorbing heat, basking in the intimacy of shared affection before looking up at Rick, arms still around the older man, his chin digging slightly into the flesh along Rick's sternum and he offered the older man a soft and happy little smile, "Pancakes?"

 

* * *

 

Morty was hugging him again. 

His grandson had gotten a lot more affectionate in death; Rick had been held more since yesterday than..  _ Fuck.. _  A pathetically long time, especially if he didn't include sex in his calculations. He didn't really enjoy coming to that realisation, though he knew that it was something he'd cultivated. 

Rick had always conveyed a certain attitude that discouraged anyone from touching him. While he knew that, and had done it mostly on purpose, now that Morty had stomped all over that barrier to treat Rick like his own personal teddy bear he felt keenly touch-starved. Each time Morty wrapped him up in his strong, thin arms and held him he was startled anew at the intensity of his reaction, and left floundering for what to do. 

He felt like a teenager slow dancing for the first time, all off balance, second guessing what to do with his hands and counting down the seconds he was in Morty's arms, anxious without knowing why. He so desperately didn't want it to stop, didn't want Morty to mistake his uncertainty for distaste, didn't want to lose this closeness that had sprung up between them, and he hated not knowing how to do that. 

A shiver raced down Rick's spine as he stared down at the top of the boy's head, arms held out awkwardly at his sides until Morty looked up at him with eyes full of peace and happiness. Then it was easy to let his arms enfold Morty and give him a gentle squeeze back. 

"Yeah, Morty. Pancakes." He answered, feeling his heart give a little tug as Morty gave him one last squeeze before letting him go and stepping back. 

But Morty's comment about the consistency of blood had sparked his imagination, and memories of a few of the more exotic recipes from Earth he'd encountered, and he already had plans for breakfast spinning to life in his mind. Nothing too complicated for a first attempt, but something more special than just blood drizzled on pancakes for Morty's first solid meal as a vampire. 

Rick dug through the fridge, avoiding the human blood full of preservatives and anticoagulants and pulling out a pint of sow's blood in a glass jar that he'd picked up from an abattoir. Morty had seemed to like blood that was fresher, untampered with, rather than having a preference for human blood in particular, which might just make this the perfect ingredient for what he had planned. Rick unscrewed the lid and swirled his finger in the blood before sucking it into his mouth, considering the taste, analyzing it like he would any other ingredient with a thoughtful little hum. Then he dipped his finger back in and held it out to Morty, demanding, "Taste this, tell me what it's like."

* * *

 

As Morty felt Rick's arms envelop him and gently squeeze his body, the teen's mood lifted significantly, his previous bout of sadness forgotten in favor of something far lighter, especially when Rick agreed to make pancakes. 

Rick was still kind of tense, a little weary about the constant hugging thing it seemed, but he was starting to loosen up and the cunning little vampire had absolutely no plans to stop doing it. As he stepped back though, still looking up at Rick, Morty could see the spark of inspiration within his eyes, that look Rick only got when he was devising a plan or rolling a particularly juicy invention around in his brain, and Morty was immediately intrigued, watching unabashed as Rick opened the fridge and dug around inside. 

The jar he produced seemed different than the bagged blood, set aside for something specific but when Rick unscrewed the cap and took a taste, Morty practically choked. In fact, he did choke. 

Eyes going wide as saucers, Morty watched as Rick sucked the dark substance from his fingertip with an appraising look, almost as if he were trying to decide on something. Mouth dry, Morty stared and before he could wrap his mind around what he'd just seen, an indescribably appealing mental image flashed across his mind alongside a question: _ What if Rick was a vampire?  _

The idea made Morty's heart beat faster, the idea of Rick impossibly fast, stronger than he already was, a predator of the highest degree, graced with loose limbs, free of pain, graceful and otherworldly.  _ Unstoppable. _ It was appealing in a way Morty had never quite thought about but before he could consider it any more, Rick was thrusting his arm out towards Morty, finger once again covered in blood and demanding that he taste it. 

Slightly weary, but unable to find it in himself to disobey such an easy request, Morty leaned forward and wrapped his lips tightly around Rick’s finger. Pressing his tongue flat against the bottom of the digit, Morty drew it back out of his mouth with a long, slow suck, the flats of his two front teeth gently grazing the top of the scientist’s lengthy digit. He knew he was supposed to be judging the blood, tasting it, and he  _ was, _ but the taste of Rick's skin on his tongue was near overwhelming in its own right. Soft and fragile, the older man's fingers tasted a bit like coffee, slightly salty as all skin with a slight twang of something chemical, most likely from his work, but beneath it all was something one hundred percent Rick, unmistakable and unique to the blue haired genius alone. 

The blood though, that was a different story. 

Morty pulled back, releasing Rick's finger with a pop, his brows scrunched in thought as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to determine just what he thought about it before replying, "It's kind of soft. Muted, I mean. Not as flavorful or overwhelming as the stuff in the bags. Clean though. Fresh." 

Morty stepped forward and dipped his own finger into the jar and sucked it clean with a thoughtful look on his face, "It's good. M-maybe a bit dull compared to, y'know, all the exotic stuff you brought but good."

 

* * *

 

_ Oh shit. _

Rick may have made a slight miscalculation, distracted as he was by his need to know the difference between what he tasted and what Morty did. But when Morty did as he said and sucked his finger into that surprisingly warm mouth, with lips that Rick could remember being plump and swollen from sucking on his neck just minutes ago and the scrape of teeth, the wet curl of Morty’s tongue licking the blood off his finger, suddenly the difference in taste was the very last thing on Rick's mind. 

In fact, the only thing on Rick's mind was a scramble between a distressingly uncertain wondering about whether he'd done that on purpose so that he could add another memory to his rapidly growing collection of things he shouldn't be thinking about his grandson, telling himself it was purely speculation to wonder whether fangs.. not  _ Morty's _ fangs of course, just in general.. whether fangs would get in the way of sucking cock, and a frantic mental backpedal as he slammed the brakes on that exact line of thinking. 

"G-good.. good, th-that's what I was hoping for." He said, voice a little too tight, eyes a little too wide, before he turned away and sealed the jar again, taking his time so that he could wrestle himself back in line, and then stood and strode over to the ladder up to the garage.

Completely oblivious to Rick's conflict or the fact that there was any real issue at all, Morty bounced along, barely a step behind the flustered scientist, overly excited about their pancakes and whatever Rick's plan was for that blood in the jar. 

Morty bounced on his toes at the bottom of the ladder, waiting for Rick to hurry up and climb, his childish excitement easily getting the better of him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pancake time! Yay! I like this chapter and I hope you lovely people like it too. Clair and I have been looking forward to this one, which is probably why we're only a day late from when we wanted to get it out to you! xD oooh, shock and awe, I know. Tremble before our ponderous editing abilities. No but we're both very thrilled with the next few chapters, they're super exciting, and combined with all of your feedback and support posting this fic is an absolute treat, so thank you for reading and for being so awesome and we hope you enjoy! -Sqk and Clair

Rick was back in control of himself by the time he stepped out into the garage. He put the jar of blood on the desk and then rummaged through the shelves until he found the Meeseeks box that he'd stowed away out of sight after Jerry's idiotic misuse of it, and pushed the button on top, sighing at the too-excited, squeaky greeting of the Meeseeks that popped into existence. 

"Mr. Meeseeks, put on that nebuliser, pick up that canister and come with me. Morty, if you're not going to wear the socks I got you at least put some sunscreen on your feet." He glared down at Morty's bare toes and then gave him an expectant look, one eyebrow raised, before turning away. Then, after a careful look out the window at the position of the sun, he opened up the garage door and led the Meeseeks out into the yard. 

Morty giggled at Rick's gruff version of being a mother hen, wiggling his toes just a little bit, "Sure Rick, whatever you say." 

The vampire watched his grandpa and the bright blue Meeseeks wander from the garage with a dopey smile on his face before he jumped back down into the hatch, swinging his arms happily as he wandered around the space, humming and looking for sunscreen. Eventually, after overlooking the bottle no less than three times, Morty grabbed the container with a victorious sound and twisted open the top, scooping out a good sized glob with his fingers before smearing it across his feet, just like Rick ordered, and the vampire followed it up by rubbing the cream along with his hands, arms and face. Just to be safe. It smelled similar to the stuff on Earth, like aloe vera and something that was hard to describe as anything other than just sunscreen and Morty sighed contently at the familiarly comfortable scent. However, since he hadn't used a mirror, Morty was blissfully unaware of the lingering white streaks of the stuff along the bridge of his nose, his forehead and the swell of his cheeks.

The teen practically flew up the ladder and bounced into the kitchen, reminding himself over and over that he had no reason to flinch from sunlight, that he was safe and Rick was making the house safe but it still happened. There were moments where he'd catch a spot of illumination against his skin and he'd jerk away, fearful of the burn he’d felt before, only to relax once more as logic caught up with instinctual response, telling him that he’d already watched Rick coat this side of the house with his magic Sun-be-Gone spray the night before when he went up to give the older man coffee. Morty just tried to ignore it, choosing to keeping his mind busy instead as he pulled out eggs and milk, pancake mix and syrup. Setting a pan out on the stove, the teen grabbed a bowl and a whisk, even going as far as to pull down two plates and silverware but he quickly ran out of things to grab and was forced to simply wait. 

The teen hopped up on the counter and mindlessly hummed the lullaby from  _ Pan's Labyrinth _ as he kicked his legs in an idle rhythm, heels rhythmically bouncing off of the cabinets below.

Morty could hear Rick's voice before he came in through the garage door and into the kitchen, saying, "And you're done when I say you're done, so check with me when you're finished or if you think you can't for some reason." Rick grinned at Morty and rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. 

"Your dumb dad has gone and made me paranoid about confusing the poor things." He said, before looking over everything Morty had gotten ready and nodding his thanks even as he put the eggs and pancake mix away and pulled out a strainer, another bowl, dark chocolate, cream, cinnamon, flour, molasses, sugar, salt.. his collection of supplies grew as he moved around the kitchen like he owned it, and in barely any time at all he was straining half of the blood into a bowl and the other half into a saucepan, letting it simmer on the stove. 

Rick moved over to Morty after that, leaned against the counter next to where the boy sat and looked over at him with a smirk. "Y-you've got a bit of sunscreen." He said, reaching out and smoothing his fingers down Morty's nose and then across his forehead and cheeks. Then he flicked Morty on the nose playfully and spun back to whisk sugar and milk into the bowl of blood.

 

* * *

 

Morty grinned, remembering the absolute wreck they'd walked into the last time the Meeseeks were involved. How like his dad to mess up something as easy as wishing for something simple. 

The green eyed immortal watched with a certain amount of eager excitement as Rick moved, slightly confused as the blue haired man put away the pancake mix, but then the scientist was grabbing flour and sugar and salt and Morty realized, with a delayed sort of awe, that not only was Rick going to cook but he was going to  _ cook _ . 

There was no instant about it, no shortcuts. 

Rick was pouring dry ingredients into a bowl heating blood on the stove and whisking, not bothering with a measuring cup or any sort of recipe and Morty was ensnared, fascinated to the highest degree. His smile gained a bit more warmth though as Rick approached, turning shy when Rick pointed out the sunscreen he missed and Morty couldn't help but to giggle as warm fingers rubbed it easily into his skin. The moment quickly passed though and Rick was moving away, going back to his task and Morty was hopping down from the counter and following him, looking over Rick's shoulder, watching him work with an attention that he normally didn't have. 

Science was not his forte. He wasn't mathematically inclined, and creative engineering had always been more than a bit over his head, even watching as Rick put the projects together right in front of his face it was still difficult to comprehend, but cooking.. That was something Morty could understand. The vampire understood the complexities of cooking, even if he wasn't especially good at it, and watching Rick work was like watching a piece of artwork take shape. He could appreciate it, could appreciate what was going on and the smooth, flawless way the older man moved from task to task, his eyes alight with fascinated interest. However, it wasn't until the batter took on a distinctly red color that Morty looked up at Rick in confusion, "Aren't you gonna have any, Rick?"

Rick covered the finished pancake batter and moved to the stove, starting to grate the block of chocolate into the blood he'd left gently simmering. 

"Of course I am. You know, most of the world uses blood in their cooking in some way, Morty. It's not like vampires have a monopoly on it. But I'll stick to maple syrup on my pancakes, this here is just for you." 

He reached around Morty and snatched up a lemon, zesting some of it into the saucepan, adding in some spices and then stirring it all together with some cream before lifting the spoon and tasting the concoction, scrunching his nose a little and offering the spoon to Morty, "Bit metallic for me. What do you think?" 

Morty was touched. That was really the only way to describe exactly how he felt about Rick's actions. 

Rick was using blood recipes in his cooking so that Morty didn't have to eat alone, so that he didn't feel out of place or weird.  _ Rick was trying to make Morty feel normal. _ Rick, who hated the idea of normalcy with a passion, perhaps even with every iota of his being, was doing everything in his power to make Morty feel like he was still just a normal, average teenage boy, and it struck a chord in the brunet; it touched something so far down in his heart that the vampire hadn't even known it existed, or that it was something he needed. 

Laughing at the grimace on Rick's face, Morty danced over to him and sucked the spoon into his mouth. A burst of flavor exploded on his tongue, sweet and tangy, hints of chocolate and a richness that he'd only encountered in expensive sweet shops and restaurants. They were flavors he never thought he'd get to taste again and suddenly Morty was smiling again and his happiness was unparalleled, blinding and untouchable, features lighting up with unadulterated joy as he offered the utensil back to Rick, his sunny mood practically infectious, "Jeez Rick, it's delicious!" 

Not caring that he might get snapped at or that the pan was probably hot, Morty dipped his finger into the concoction and sucked the digit into his mouth with a blissful expression and a little wiggle type dance of pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before snapping open and looking up at Rick, "You're a -- a really good chef, Rick. Before you, y'know, sold your soul and married lady science, did you ever consider doing it for a living?”

Rick brushed Morty's hand away as it reached for another taste of the sauce he'd made, straight from the pan. He'd let Morty get away with it once because of how happy the vampire had seemed and how much Rick enjoyed seeing Morty enjoy it, little dance and all, but some habits were just too hard to break, and he waved the spoon mock-threateningly when Morty looked like he might try again. 

"Don't mock our love, Morty. I'm her willing slave and I like it that way." Rick joked, smiling easily as he basked in Morty's good mood, "But no, I've only ever cooked for fun. It's easy and relaxing." 

Rick's eyes flickered over Morty, remembering the blissful look on the boy's face when he'd tasted Rick's efforts. Cooking for someone had always been a way to show affection for Rick, to care for them. But he wasn't going to admit that out loud. Instead he flicked a drop of water into the pan to see if it was hot and then sliced a bit of butter into it, swirling it around as it melted and then ladling batter into the pan and circling the ladle on top to spread it evenly.

Morty pouted as he was denied another taste of the delicious concoction in the pan. It was incredibly tasty and the teen couldn't even imagine how delicious it would be drizzled all over his pancakes. 

As Rick spoke though, the teen grinned, pleased with the teasing and light natured undertones of their conversation before replying, "I-I'm not mocking anything, Rick, I'm just, y'know, pointing out how whipped she's got you." 

Morty grinned and hopped up on the counter beside Rick, watching him work and in the quiet expanse of the kitchen, with only the sizzling butter and the sound of whisking and stirring to interrupt the peaceful silence, Morty realized that he wanted to know more about Rick. He wanted to figure out the puzzling enigma that was his grandfather, wanted to know him, to  _ really _ know him and not just the painted picture of snarky distaste and harsh wit that he presented to the world.

"Hey Rick? Have you always been a genius? Like.. I mean.. Did you just start doing science one day and decide that's what you were gonna do forever?"

Rick flipped the first pancake with a flick of his wrist and then looked Morty over consideringly. The boy was smiling and happy and reaching out for a connection to him, and Rick remembered his thoughts on how that was what Morty was really after when he'd asked for Rick to teach him to cook. He found that he wanted to give that to his grandson, to connect with him this time rather than dodging the boy's attempts like he usually did. 

"Mmm.. yes and no.” he said, hesitating for the barest moment before diving in and starting to speak. “I was always too smart for my own good. My mother was very supportive of me. My father.. not so much. But then, he wasn't much in general." Memories washed over Rick, and he stirred Morty's sauce more to give himself something to do than because it needed his attention. But he kept speaking, the words coming surprisingly easily once he'd begun. 

"I was a little asshole of a kid, thought I was real hot shit.. tested out of highschool before I'd hit puberty, but I spent time with the dropouts. I was way too young for them but I cooked so they let me stay.” Rick paused, glancing up briefly and then looking away again as he added, “N-not food, Morty, drugs.” before picking up the thread of his story once more. 

“Chemistry got me whipped early.. and it was the 70's, everyone did drugs, especially in my neighbourhood. My father was gone by then and it was just Mamá and I. She was sick.. manic, though I didn't know it then, and she couldn't hold down a job, so I took care of the two of us until she finally figured out how I was doing it." Rick stopped speaking long enough to slide the first pancake onto one of the plates Morty had set out and start cooking another, and to let the memories of his mother fill him up, a fond smile spreading across his face as he continued speaking. 

"She was so angry, Morty. She chased me around the house with this big wooden spoon until I promised to 'stop wasting the Lord's gift to me' and go to university. So I did, and I started working on an early version of that fuel the Zygerians grabbed me for. Er- concentrated dark matter, I mean." Rick frowned for a second but then quickly moved on. The Zygerians had really done a number on him with that duplicate of his grandson; it still caught him off guard that Morty knew nothing about it, sometimes. But he rallied quickly and continued his story, saying, "I built an engine because my fuel kept breaking normal ones; I built a spaceship to give my engine something to do, and.. a-and when Mamá died there was nothing keeping me on Earth, so I.. left." Rick stared down at the pan for a moment and then tucked away that old sadness and cut a piece of the pancake off, stabbed it with a fork, dipped the morsel in the sauce he'd made for Morty and held the first bite of pancake out, one hand cupped underneath to keep it from dripping on the floor, "Now try it all together." he said, meeting Morty's eyes for the first time since he'd started answering the boy's question as he did, a twinge of nervous vulnerability filling him, though he kept it well hidden.

 

* * *

 

Unconsciously, Morty leaned forward, curious eyes alight and eager to listen as the teen soaked up what he was hearing like a sponge. Normally, Rick was too callous, his words too sharp, too closed down and it dashed any hope for knowledge about his roots, about where he came from or what made Rick..  _ Rick. _ But Morty was slowly starting to discover that Rick was becoming more open with him. Part of the vampire wondered how much of that was due to some misplaced form of guilt and whether or not Rick actually  _ wanted _ him to know or just felt that Morty deserved answers but another, much larger portion, didn't care one way or another, because he was finally getting down to the marrow of his grandfather's being, to the little things that'd eventually given birth to quirks and habits Rick now carried alongside him like a secondary skin. 

It was intriguing, surprising in some ways, but also not so much in others. Morty was not surprised to learn that Rick hadn't much cared for or respected his father. He seemed the type but the softness when he spoke of his mother, that fond look and the tiny knowing smile.. Even when he talked about her chasing him with a spoon of all things.. It was warm, and some part of Morty was glad that Rick had at least one good parent, one adult that cared for him in his youth and helped guide him. 

The thought of Rick growing up in the 70's though, that was interesting. Visions of his grandfather clad in polyester plaid and armed with disco music danced before the vampire's bright green eyes and he grinned, loving the thought, but it was tainted a bit as it morphed into some weird  _ Breaking Bad _ parody of Rick in a yellow hazmat suit, cooking drugs.

It didn't surprise Morty though. Not really. 

Rick was a genius, one that, in his older years,  _ liked _ drugs. It wasn't hard to imagine him making them at a young age, however, the idea that it had all stemmed from a desire for good, to help his family and support his mother, that was something Morty didn't expect. And, on a certain level, it pleased him.

Rick, though definitely not a particularly  _ good _ man, had a very large heart when it suited him. He'd seen the older man pitch homeless street urchins money before with a grumble, watched him steal things and then just give them away saying it was all for sport anyway, watched him occasionally go out of his way to help somebody for no real reason at all and then claim that it merely granted him a favor of his choice in the future. But Morty always suspected that it was due to the fact that Rick couldn't find it in himself to be  _ all bad. _ He had a blackened heart dipped in gold. 

Smiling to himself, Morty was almost startled when Rick offered him a bite of the pancake but, trusting that the older man would never lead him astray, Morty leaned forward and took the bite from the fork without even thinking about it only to groan shamelessly. It was delicious, solid and delicious. Morty chewed slowly, letting the rich flavor of the sauce merge flawlessly with the blood based cakes, tasting the faint hints of cocoa made even more bold by the chocolate Rick had already added to the sauce, the fluffy texture with the smooth liquidy syrup substitute and Morty was in heaven. Vampire or no, it was one of the best things he'd ever eaten, and no matter how long he lived, Morty knew he'd never forget this moment, that he would treasure it always and that he'd never be able to see pancakes again without thinking of Rick, without remembering how happy he was in the present. 

Morty swallowed and looked up at Rick with a pleased expression,  "Jeez Rick, y-you really weren't joking around. That was delicious!" 

Morty wanted to say something else, to respond to the in-depth knowledge he'd been granted on a man so secretive and close to the chest, but it seemed wrong somehow. Upon the end of his tale, Morty didn't miss the hurt in his tone, the pain that only came with the passing of a parent or family member that helped shape you into who you were, and part of Morty felt that, with the end of his story, the matter had been left to the sea of nostalgia in which it'd been dredged up from. It felt like the topic was closed and that there was no need for comments. 

Morty hoped Rick wasn't offended by his silence on the matter, but somehow, he knew the other man wouldn't mind. 

Pushing the uncertainty away, mentally joking around and reminding himself not to accidently fracture time somehow, Morty snuck another finger full of the sauce by itself straight out of the pan, right under Rick's nose and he grinned, "I could probably eat like.. Like.. I don't even know, Rick, like a hundred of those things!"

Rick had breathed a careful sigh of relief when Morty simply leaned forward and took the bite of food he was offering rather than commenting. And when the vampire’s eyes slipped closed and he moaned and babbled his praise instead of digging into what Rick had just revealed about himself, cheekily sneaking another taste of the sauce with a playful grin right in front of him, Rick relaxed back into leaning against the counter next to the vampire and held out the spatula to him. 

"You obviously need to be kept busy. Here, get to work you little sneak." 

Morty could practically smell the relief coming off of Rick's person in waves and he grinned, slightly smug, to himself. He'd made the right call, not pressing for details or commenting on what'd been revealed to him about Rick's life, no matter how fascinating it was or how interested Morty was to hear more, but when Rick offered him the spatula, his eyes widened a fraction with undisguised excitement, "R-really, Rick? Y-y-you mean it? I can do it? What.. what if I burn them though..?" 

Morty hopped down from the counter and stood in front of the stove, holding the spatula like a Spartan preparing to battle the entire Persian empire, eyes not leaving the pancake bubbling slowly in the pan for a single second, every single ounce of his vampire attention focused on that one thing.

Rick hopped up on the counter where Morty had been sitting and twisted to face his grandson with one knee tucked under him and the other leg hanging down so that his toes were just above the floor. He laughed at the boy's intent expression and nervous excitement and leaned forward to talk Morty through it. 

"Y-you can't judge by colour with these, the blood and cocoa make them too dark. But if you wiggle it around and get the spatula under it you can get a feel for it. A-and, see those little bubbles? It's ready to be flipped. Plus-" Rick reached out and tapped Morty on the nose as he spoke, "You have an advantage over me, Morty. Use it." 

Morty listened carefully to Rick's advice, startling a tiny bit when the older man tapped his nose but he just giggled, relaxing and a bit and loosening his grip on the spatula, trying to ignore the finger shaped dents he'd made in the handle without even trying. 

He took the advice to heart though, inhaling slow and deep, trying to get a feel for the scent of when something was perfect, before it could burn. Not wanting to tempt fate though, Morty flipped the pancake just as Rick had suggested with a smile, noting that, despite the dark color, it didn't look burnt, and it didn't smell like it either. A big smile stretched Morty's lips, threatening to split his face and he looked over at Rick, his features lighting up a few shades more as he caught sight of Rick in his spot, looking so casual sitting on the counter, "I did it, Rick!"

“Of course you did, Morty." Rick said with an answering smile, confident that Morty had everything under control. 

He leaned back against the upper cabinets casually and cut himself a bite of the pancake he'd fed Morty from, drizzling it in maple syrup and popping the bite into his mouth, humming thoughtfully. It was good. The cinnamon and cocoa and sweet, dark molasses had dulled the harsh metallic taste of the blood on its own, and the consistency, like Morty had said, was close enough to eggs to make the pancakes exactly as fluffy as Rick had hoped. 

"N-now do it, what did you say.. a hundred more times? I don't think there's enough batter for that but.." Rick had cut off another bite of pancake and dipped it in the saucepan again, trailing off as he held the bite out to Morty, who was still watching his cooking pancake with an adorably single-minded focus.

 

* * *

The little vampire rode out the high of accomplishment and praise, basking in the sure nature of Rick's statement and the way he said it like it was completely and utterly obvious that Morty was bound to succeed to begin with. 

Morty’s smile remained as he poked at the pancake, gently maneuvering it around the pan, just pushing it around to watch it slide across hot metal and he giggled at Rick's statement, "Maybe I could just make 'em really tiny, y'know? Like umm, like little bite sized pancakes! Bet we could make a hundred of those." 

Morty grinned, aware of Rick's previous humming, glad that he seemed to enjoy the pancakes as well but then his excitement returned tenfold because Rick was offering him another bite and there wasn't a single chance that the happy teen was going to refuse. Morty leaned over, not taking his eyes off the pan and nommed the bite right off the fork with a happy hum, not noticing as the sweet sauce lingered on his mouth, smeared across his lower lip, a tiny bit at the corner of his mouth as he flipped the pancake onto a plate, resisting the urge to dance when it came out perfect, not burnt or undercooked, and his heart raced with pleasure and self worth. 

Assuming that he was supposed to just keep going, Morty grabbed the butter and flicked a small piece into the pan just like Rick had done, moving it around and coating the bottom of the heated surface before grabbing the bowl and pouring in a good healthy amount of batter and then shamelessly licking the rim so that the thick red liquid wouldn't drip all over the counter, giggling at the odd taste of uncooked pancake batter and blood.

 

* * *

 

When Morty leaned forward to take the offered forkful Rick felt that same nervous, rearing anxiety that told him he'd gone too far again, that he was pushing at boundaries he didn't want to break. Morty's determined focus as he blindly reached out with his mouth for the pancake, fangs glistening and white between lips Rick shouldn't be focusing on, tongue peeking out just a bit before he closed his mouth around the fork, just confirmed for Rick that he shouldn't have done that. 

Then his attention zeroed in on the little smear of sauce on Morty's lower lip and Rick was overwhelmed by the mental image of reaching out and curling his fist in the boy’s shirt, pulling him forward and licking it away, of licking his way across Morty's lower lip and then further, into the vampire's mouth, feeling Morty nick his tongue with those razor sharp fangs, hearing him moan at the combination of flavours, feeling Morty suck the blood from his tongue with a hunger for him that he'd never felt before- 

_ Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck.. _

Rick turned where he sat,  _ easy, easy, _ and brought the knee closest to Morty, the one he'd been sitting on, up so that his heel rested on the edge of the counter as he leaned back against the cabinets again, hiding his reaction to the thoughts he just  _ shouldn't  _ have had. 

"Y-you've got a bit of sauce, Morty." Rick said, rubbing at his own lip to show him, and then laughing just a little tightly. "I don't remember you being so messy before. Maybe it's a vampire thing."   

Oblivious to all but the pan, Morty ran his tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before casually clearing it of the sticky sauce with a small suck, leaving his lips slick with saliva, darting the tip of his tongue out to flick against the corner of his mouth before glancing over at the vibrant haired scientist, flipping the pancake in the pan with a casualness that almost made it seem like he'd been cooking all his life, "Did I get it, grandpa Rick?"

Shame tore through Rick like a wildfire at hearing that word,  _ that title _ and everything it represented, from his grandson when his thoughts were so fucking inappropriate, hating how vulnerable it made the vampire sound, and he wrapped one arm around his leg, curling in on himself and pushing his thigh into his chest like putting pressure on a wound. He felt like he must be bleeding out, the way Morty's innocent, trusting voice had ripped into him, but he tried to respond anyway, saying, "Y-yeah, buddy.." in a strained voice, trying to get the words out quick, before his throat closed up on him, and biting down on his tongue to keep a miserable little sound from escaping. 

Rick turned his head to stare out the kitchen window rather than let his sick gaze taint Morty any further as a flood of self-disgust and black vitriol poured over him. He hated that he'd let himself taint such an innocent and precious memory, an afternoon with Morty that he'd wanted to cherish. Hated what he'd let Morty do when he woke up, hated himself for having these _ thoughts _ . And he was terrified, more than anything, that he'd lose Morty if the boy- if his  _ grandson _ ever found out what a sick fuck his grandfather really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clair here! I'd also really like to give a little shout out to Ao3 user Sickamore! Sqk and I gushed about your comment for ages haha You're lovely, and so are the rest of you who take the time to subscribe and read our work and leave comments and kudos! much love! 
> 
> Xo,  
> Clair


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Lovely Sinners! Clair here ^-^ Oh man, I'm so thrilled to release this chapter for you all and I know that Sqk feels the same! We've both been just this side of busy so we apologize for the wait and hope that you enjoy the chapter! Thank you for all the amazingly beautiful reviews and comments on the last chapter, we both really appreciate it and it encourages us to just keep cranking out the content haha. 
> 
> Ta,  
> Clair & Sqk

Morty's brows pulled together as a sickly sweet and overly pungent scent filled the air. For a second he thought that maybe the sauce had burned but when he looked over at Rick to ask, the words wouldn't come out. Rick was pointedly not looking at him. His limbs were no longer loose and relaxed, one of his legs pulled to his chest. He looked almost like he was trying to get away from the teen and Morty realized, with a pang of painful regret, that he'd probably made Rick feel guilty. Morty knew that, though his grandpa tried to hide it, he still felt some lingering guilt over what had happened to him in the days before his change but Morty thought that it was mostly passed by now. Apparently it hadn't though. 

Looking back down at the pan, Morty wished that he hadn't been so open, that he hadn't shoved his vampire nature down Rick's throat at every turn, constantly reminding him of something that he obviously felt guilty about. A stray tear fell from the brunet's eyelashes into the pan, the hissing sizzle making his stomach cramp and as he scooped up the cake, sliding it easily onto the plate, Morty subtly wiped his dewy eyes, hoping that Rick wouldn't see it. His smile was just a little less sunny now, not quite reaching his eyes, less genuine, but he tried not to let the reaction bother him. Maybe if he just.. toned it down a bit.. drinking his blood strictly from mugs and never the bag where Rick could see, trying to keep his fangs hidden. Walk normal, not as fast. Quit jumping down into the hatch. Maybe if he just.. gave it some time and didn't remind Rick around every turn that he was a vampire, then his grandpa wouldn't feel so sad, so damn _ guilty. _

Trying to move past the tense moment and return to the happiness that'd previously threatened to overflow their kitchen, Morty looked at the remaining half bowl of pancake batter and then over at Rick, "Jeez Rick, better not let all these go to waste! Y-y-you're thin enough as it is. Could use some meat on those skinny bones of yours. Once I really, y'know, get the hang of cooking, I'll fatten you up big time!"

Rick shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut for one long, long moment, then turned his head to look at Morty, cheek resting on his knee. He was full of determination to do right by his grandson, to purge this sickness out of himself and enjoy Morty's company the way he was supposed to. He'd protect him, take care of him, and be there for him. He'd failed to protect his grandson from a monster once, he wouldn't fail to do so again. 

"Y-you'd like that, wouldn't you, Rosina Leckermaul?" He said, voice subdued but injected with a bit of humour still, followed by a small smile, "Have you ever known me to turn down pancakes, Morty?"

Morty could hear the strain, the slight tension beneath Rick's words but he pretended that he didn't, eager to just let bygones be bygones and to move forward. "Not when they're shaped like flying saucers, no."

Morty grinned and drizzled a ridiculous amount of syrup all over Rick's pancakes in his distraction, trying to wrack his brain and figure out what Rick was referencing, but the teen came up empty. He considered laughing it off and pretending he knew what it was, or even just letting it be, but he wanted to get the joke and the younger man knew that he'd never remember the name well enough to Google it later while the scientist wasn't around. 

"Who is Rosina Smeckerlawl, Rick?"

Rick smiled a little more genuinely at Morty's question and his butchery of the name. The smile slipped away again in the next moment, but at least it managed to take a bit of the strain around Rick's eyes with it, and his voice was less flat when he explained, saying, "Leckermaul, Morty. Engelbert Humperdink, the composer, not the singer, named the witch from Hansel and Gretel that in an operatic adaptation of the story."

"Jeez Rick, y-y-you sure do know lots of random, obscure bits of trivia." The teen smiled, his own more than a little genuine but not nearly as sunny and open as it'd been before as he tried to hide the sharp points of his fangs behind tight lips, “I actually really l-like it. Trivia is my favorite. Ever wanna know stuff about the ocean and I could talk you to death. Or, y'know, maybe undeath if you're lucky, Rick."

Rick's eyes narrowed momentarily at Morty's comment, something about his grandson’s tone of voice catching his attention, but he let it go. The vampire had obviously picked up on his melancholy mood, not smiling that wide, happy smile that he loved so much, and he was determined to get it back. Angsting his way into losing out on the sweetness and light of Morty's happy presence with his sour mood was as bad as perverting it with his dirty mind. 

Rick mentally rolled his eyes at that thought, correcting himself. It wasn’t even nearly as bad as that, but he still didn’t want to lose out on it, so he slid off of the counter and turned to lean against it, cutting into the syrup covered pancakes that Morty was apparently going to fatten him up with and bringing a forkful to his lips. 

"Tell me something about the sea, Morty." He said, popping a bite of pancake into his mouth and enjoying the unique, delicious flavour of the meal that the little vampire had put together for him in an obvious attempt to lift his mood. Then he looked back over at his drooping grandson.

It was like flicking on a switch in the darkness and watching light spillover and illuminate a room, like watching clouds part for the first time all winter to reveal the sun, bright and unwavering, shining down. Morty's smile returned at full capacity and he forgot about his fangs for a moment, lips stretched wide, showing off his teeth, "Oh jeez, Rick. Now you asked for it." 

The teen scooped more butter into the pan, pouring the batter and running more on autopilot than anything, his brain racing as he tried to figure out where to start, "So you know how chameleons are all exciting because of their ability to change colors and stuff? Well, they're actually kinda behind. In the ocean there are these things called cuttlefish, cephalopods related to squids and octopi and they can change colors too. They’ve got some ten million color cells on their skin to help them change color. But where as a chameleon only has about.. Five thousand or so color patterns it can change to, cuttlefish can do over fifty thousand!” 

Morty poked at the pancake with his spatula as he continued, “Cuttlefish are super cool Rick, and really clever. The super tiny males that don't have a chance at mating can disguise themselves as females! See, male cuttlefish will protect and hoard female suitors that accept them in little tiny aquatic harems and the small males that have no chance? They turn transvestite and make themselves smell like females so that the big buff males will protect them and they can pass sperm packets to the females right under the male's nose!" 

Morty's eyes lit up and he grinned down at his pancakes, watching the bubbles as he continued, "And did you know that octopi have beaks? They do. It's how they eat which isn't a big deal but most people don't know that their beak used to be a shell! After evolving for millions of years it became a beak, and an octopus can squeeze into any space or through any hole as long as their beak can fit and they have enough time. They're really smart too, Rick. Did you know that they can get themselves out of a jar? They'll unscrew it from the inside. They can even get out of aquariums. Squids are really clever too, but they're a lot more sinister and kinda scary. Their suckers have little hooks on them and some breeds, like the Humbolt, have been known to purposefully go after divers and go for their masks and breathing stuff before dragging them down to the bottom of the ocean. Some of them are even scarier than that. In the depths, like super deep, there's this thing called the vampire squid and it looks like a big fat octopus and all of its tentacles are connected by a membrane that makes it sort of look like an umbrella but it has spikes! Spikes, Rick! If it feels threatened it will turn itself inside out. And it has huge bioluminescent eyes that are blue and glowy," 

Morty flipped his pancake, rambling on and on, not even realizing that his stutter had all but disappeared in light of his excitement and, once started, the teen couldn't seem to stop, "And that’s not the only weird thing out there. People think that everything dies and stuff but it turns out that I might not be the only immortal thing out there, Rick. There's types of jellyfish that scientists think are immortal. They have no idea how long they live and unless something eats them or whatever, they just keep on living forever! It's really amazing. Jellyfish are the best, Rick. They don't have brains really, or much of anything but there's this type of jellyfish, the box jelly, that can recognize colors! And it has like twenty eyes or something, all transparent. But it can recognize white and red and black and it has a way of being able to make itself move quickly so it can escape danger and stuff."

 

* * *

 

Rick stared at his grandson as Morty started to talk, watching as that smile that he'd missed so much spread wide across the vampire's face as he picked up speed and started making little darting hand motions, gesticulating excitedly as he talked faster and faster. Rick loved seeing confidence fill Morty's expression, loved hearing his voice take on a firm, lecturing tone, the thrill of knowledge in his eyes -- the same look that had driven Rick off-world. 

He could see the type of person Morty would become as the teenager talked. See what was under all of that self-consciousness and uncertainty, the interests and excitement and passion he hid away inside of himself, that Rick wanted to help Morty find the confidence to let that out. He felt the weight of guilt slip away under Morty's unrelenting flood of facts, a few of which he actually hadn’t known, and he was grateful for that too, for the way Morty made him a better, happier person just by being around him. 

As the vampire wound down and looked over at him with a happy, fangy smile Rick smiled back and said, "Thank you." quietly before looking down and then, slowly, forcing his eyes back up to meet Morty's again, not letting himself hide away. 

"You know, my ship is airtight, a-and it can handle some serious pressure. Some modifications for maneuverability in water and- well.. I've never explored the ocean. Could be interesting." 

Morty was about to ask Rick why the older man was thanking him but suddenly his eyes were going wide as saucers, a look of unadulterated want and excitement ensnaring his features and just as quickly he was bouncing on his toes, completely forgetting about the pancake in the pan, his body a vibrating little mass of barely contained energy and he was looking up at Rick, hopeful and pleading with his very best puppy dog eyes, “Really, Rick?! We could, y'know, really do that? You'd want to?" 

Morty was so excited that he'd completely neglected his cooking, a look of alarm stealing the excitement away as he smelled something burning and looked back at the pan with a tiny cry of despair, helplessly flipping it and inspecting the slightly blackened underside with a crushed expression.

Rick watched, lip twitching, as Morty tried, in vain, to save his pancake. But following on the heels of the sheer adorableness of watching him vibrate on the spot with excitement was just too much for Rick to handle and he lost it, throwing his head back and laughing, full-throated and happy. He'd do a lot worse than float around in the ocean to see Morty react like _ that _ again.

Finding a bunch of cephalopods and jellyfish and letting Morty gush over them would be worth it not just for the minor challenge, and to see some of the things Morty was so excited about, but to hear another upswell of facts out of the boy, to see him light up the darkness of the water with his smile. 

"Of course I want to, Morty."

* * *

 

 

In the midst of the vampire's mourning over his failed pancake, he nearly startled at the rich and utterly consuming sound of Rick's full bellied laughter. 

It was a dark sound, deep and baritone and the truth of it, the genuine nature of it, left Morty breathless for a brief moment in time. It was so rare to see Rick happy, to hear him do more than the occasional chuckle or snicker. It was a beautiful sound, a sound that Morty would have burnt a hundred pancakes to hear, one he would have listed out endless facts to hear again. 

Deciding to see just how far he could push it, the teen snickered and scooped the burnt monstrosity out of the pan and plopped it right down in the middle of Rick's plate, "Laugh it up Rick, but you're the one who's gonna, y'know, be eating it,"

“Wh-whatever you say, Morty.” Rick answered, “If you want me to eat the food equivalent of putting a 3 year old's shitty scribble on the fridge then I will." He drizzled syrup on the burnt, crispy pancake and made a big fuss out of taking a bite of it. Then he gulped, like it pained him to do so, and said, in a voice still full of laughter, "Do you want me to tell you it's delicious, too?"

Morty pinched his lips together, trying his best to hide the smile that refused to die down, snorts of laughter escaping even as he tried to repress them and Morty could feel the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face, “Yeah Rick, tell me how delicious it is. Tell me you want all of your pancakes to be burnt from now on."

Rick grinned widely and cut another big bite of the pancake, eating it with exaggerated enjoyment, happy little moans and lip licking all included. 

"Mmmphh.. Morty it's just the best pancake I've ever had. Please burn me another." He teased, and then his smile went softer, a little more honest, and the teasing tone slipped out of his voice, "Thank you for making it for me." He said, in lieu of what he really meant. 

_ Thank you for making me laugh again _ .

Morty just lost it at Rick's response. Unable to keep it together in the face of Rick's spectacularly over dramatized acting, the vampire nearly collapsed into a fit of giggles. Using the counter for support to keep him from falling over, Morty just laughed harder and harder, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes but as the vampire started to collect himself, his laughter dying down, he heard Rick's gently spoken statement as well as the subtle message that lingered silently and unspoken between the lines. 

Morty smiled and stepped away from the stove, leaving a piece of butter to sizzle and brown in the pan as he moved to stand in front of Rick, offering him a compassionate and borderline intimate smile, meeting the older man's eyes and holding his gaze for a few seconds. "You're welcome, Rick." 

Morty stole Rick's fork, still dripping with syrup and took a bite of the burnt pancake. It was kind of dull, definitely not how he remembered syrup tasting. It was kind of just like warm, thick and somewhat tasteless liquid against his tongue and Morty figured that probably had to do with his new vampire taste buds and the lack of blood in the substance but he didn't complain, offering a closed lipped smile as he swallowed, "Man, good stuff, Rick. Burnt is the way to go."

 

* * *

 

Rick held Morty's gaze, he didn't think he could do anything else, as the boy stepped up close to him and spoke so softly, bringing his unspoken message out into the open. It left him feeling that same uncertain vulnerability he got when Morty hugged him. It was intimate. It touched on a part of himself that he tried his best to keep well hidden. But Morty pulled it out of him so easily, opened him up and reached inside, curling his hand around Rick's heart. Trusting that Morty wouldn't hurt him was just as hard as simply feeling the depth of emotion it provoked. 

Rick opened his mouth, ready to brush Morty off, and then froze with his mouth hanging open as the boy stole his fork and deliberately took a bite of the burnt pancake. Seeing that, that purposeful action, the confidence in Morty's stance, the way he stood too close..  _ Don't think about it. _

Rick's mouth snapped shut and he was horrified to feel himself start to blush. He ducked his head, staring down at Morty's bare feet standing right up close to his own shoes and thought about nothing, simply tracing the faint outline of the fine bones in Morty's feet with his eyes, the veins that were easily visible beneath his pale, pale skin. His toenails were neatly cut, short, and Rick wondered a little hysterically if they still grew now that Morty was dead. 

"D-d-d-definitely." He said after too long a pause, wincing internally at his stutter.

The moment was meant to be tender and reassuring. It was meant to be something that reassured Rick that he had nothing to be guilty about, that he didn't need to be upset and that Morty would always try to share his happiness, that he would always do his best to make Rick smile but as he saw the shyness in the older man's eyes, the flush of color on his cheeks and the innocent stutter that had absolutely nothing to do with intoxication, he felt his pupils expand. 

Morty tried to suppress it, tried to push the reaction down, but he couldn't. There was something about seeing Rick vulnerable and open, something about watching his emotions expose themselves that left Morty's fangs aching and his undead heart beating faster. It made him want to own, to claim. There was a part of him, a large part, that wanted to grab Rick's chin, to tilt his head up and make him look into the vampire's eyes. He wanted to see all the raw emotion Rick was trying to hide, wanted to savor the undisguised glimpse into his soul and then he wanted to claim Rick's mouth and put a darker flush of color in his cheeks that wasn't so innocent. 

Without meaning to, Morty took a step forward, his voice a husky whisper, "Rick."

Almost in step with Morty, as he came forward, Rick was backpedaling, sliding along the counter until he had empty space at his back. Black, poisonous fury was rushing through him, making his body hurt with how suddenly tense he was, how stiff. 

_ He'd done it again. _

He'd let himself ruin another tender, sweet moment between them, and Morty had noticed this time. How much he'd noticed, Rick had no way of knowing, and he could only pray that the boy assumed Rick had been feeling something far more innocent than the genius was starting to think he was even capable of. Maybe it was this type of closeness that he wasn't capable of: platonic, innocent closeness. Maybe letting Morty in the way he'd been doing since the boy had been turned, since Morty had paid with his life for Rick's callous distancing, was just exposing his grandson to a new monster. Maybe something was broken inside of him, tainted to the point that it poisoned everything good he had. And Morty was so good, and so precious to him, and the closer he got to the boy the more this sick need for his grandson filled him, because Rick wasn't  _ good _ . 

He wanted to run. Wanted to snarl at Morty, rip into him and make him back off. But the thought of Morty crying in the tub came to him when he thought of leaving his grandson alone, and he couldn't be that selfish. So, instead, he tucked it all away. Everything. All the anguish and doubt, all the self-disgust, all the tender openness that had led him here. He forced it down, and he felt better. Blanker. In control. 

_ "Morty." _ He said back, faintly mocking, and stepped around the boy so that he could reach the pan and the butter that was burning in it. "You were doing so well, Morty. And now you're burning butter. You know I was kidding, right? About burnt being better? Go on and eat your pancakes before they get cold. I'll finish these."

 

* * *

 

Morty could physically see Rick shutting down before his eyes. The sudden shift in his demeanor, the tension in his muscles and the dark and cut off look in his gaze, it was a transformation, like a tree in summer being thrust into the heart of winter, the leaves falling from the branches in shock, the bark becoming gnarled and Morty wanted to stop it. He desperately wanted to reach out, to stop the caterpillar from becoming a butterfly and to keep Rick soft and vulnerable, but he knew that wasn't going to happen, that anything he attempted now would only push Rick further away. 

Bitterness filled the vampire's nostrils, like unscrewing a container of bleach and taking a deep breath and Morty nearly gagged at the powerful waves of merciless emotion coming off Rick in a sharp burst, his heart withering under the negativity and Morty knew he'd fucked up. He pushed Rick too far, opened him too deep, peeled the layers back to the point where he'd touched raw flesh, throbbing and alive, made the older man bleed in his attempt to get deeper, further inside and Morty wanted to scream. He wanted to reach up and rip his own hair out, to scold himself, flog every inch of his flesh and take back whatever he'd done but that wasn't an option, not now. With the mocking lilt of Rick's voice, the sharpness of his tone, he knew their morning was over. 

The glimpse of sunlight had passed, clouds returning and, slipping into autopilot, Morty backed away. 

It reminded him of the many times that his mom would hug him, would show him affection and encourage him to do better only to shut down after a careless remark from his dad. Morty felt himself start to revert, to sink back inside his own mind and he grabbed the neglected plate of pancakes, spooning some of the blood sauce onto them before turning to walk away but, just before the door into the garage, Morty stopped. He weighed the benefit of speaking, thought about the potential backlash but, in the end, the brunet was tired of laying down and exposing his belly. 

He was tired of hurting and being shut out by the one person in his life that mattered. 

Stealing his nerves, gripping his plate and creating a small crack in the glass, Morty opened his mouth to speak, not bothering to look at Rick, knowing that he'd lose his bravo if he could see the older man's face. "Y'know what separates humans from -- from animals, Rick? Abstract thought. Animals deal with dangers i-i-in the moment. They deal with things as they happen. Short term problems.. but humans aren't like that. They have the ability to look ahead. T-to plan and recognize the potential for danger way before it happens." 

Morty swallowed hard, his heart throbbing with fear and adrenaline, "That was a good thing. It allowed us to, y'know, evolve. To progress. But because of our lack of natural predators, it causes us to create dangers, whether they exist or not. Social, mental or physical, doesn't matter." 

Morty steeled himself, drawing strength and courage from the very pit of his soul and he turned to look at Rick, staring into his face, "You see me as a danger. That, somehow, I'm gonna hurt you. But you're wrong, Rick. I love you and I would rather chop off a finger than hurt you. Even on accident." Morty swallowed, his voice getting soft, "I'd kill anybody that hurt you, Rick. You don't.. You don't have to push me away. But if you need to.. That's okay. Just.. Think about it, ‘kay?" 

Morty turned on heel and slipped into the garage, slinking down into the hatch, brokenhearted but proud of himself, no longer hungry and feeling more alone than ever.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ^^ Sqk here! We've got another chapter for all of you lovely people and this one is chock-full of feels. It also ends on a bit of a cliffhanger; we've been working on editing the chapter after it at the same time so you won't have to suffer for too long while you wait for an update. But before you go read I just wanted to say thanks for all of your support and feedback once again. The reception for this fic is just wonderful, especially since we're just getting started! We've got so much more for you all to read, and we're both even more thrilled to share it now than we were when we first posted this. So, thank you, truly and sincerely.  
> Sqk and Clair

Rick let out a strangled growl and kicked the fridge, denting it, hurting his foot in the process and accomplishing nothing else. He'd wanted to stay with Morty. He hadn’t wanted his grandson to leave and he hadn't wanted to run, but he'd ended up just running in a different way, and managed hurt Morty worse than if he'd just physically left. Rick could see how Morty had flourished, opening up at the same time as he had, and he'd taken that away. He was a coward, and a stupid one at that, so afraid of possibly hurting the boy with his fucked up feelings that he'd fucked up and done it in another way. Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and standing still in the empty kitchen for a long moment. Then he shut off the stove, grabbed his plate, went into the garage, and climbed down the hatch and into the basement.

Down below, Morty picked absentmindedly at his food, trying to get himself to eat before the pancakes he'd made with Rick switched from fluffy disks of cake with bloody syrup on top into a gross paste. The memory made the teen smile a little, the tilt of his lips more sad than amused, but then the hatch was opening and Morty was looking up sharply, almost on alert and though, logically, he knew that it couldn't really be anybody else but Rick, the brunet was still surprised by his appearance.

But he said nothing, wondering if the older man was there to rip into him or mock his words, the vampire's body language a bit defensive as he tried to shield himself emotionally from whatever words may or may not have been lingering on Rick's tongue, sharp as barbed wire and ready to sink it in deep where it hurt.

Rick walked over to his grandson, who was looking miserable on the couch, and sat next to him, as close as he wanted to be to the boy, guilt or no. His leg brushed up against Morty's, and he toyed with his pancakes for a few moments before sighing and putting the plate aside.

"I think my pancakes hit that critical point of syrup absorption. Fucking blows, they were tasty. I was pretty proud of myself." He said, and half-turned to face Morty on the couch, folding one leg up under him and resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, and looking up at Morty with eyes that were full of life again. They were subdued and unhappy and regretful, but the feelings there were real at least.

"It's the other way round, you know.” Rick said quietly, “You were mostly right, right enough to make me see I was being a dick, but you had it backwards. I'm not afraid you'll hurt me, M-morty. You're a good person."

He sighed deeply, free hand tracing patterns along his thigh, "I didn't mean to hurt you; I was trying not to, if you'll believe that. I'm just shit at it. A-and I didn't want to wreck your first solid meal as a vampire either. That's special, or I wanted it to be. But I did that too."

The teen's lips twitched at Rick's comment about syrup absorption, the slightest bit amused that they were thinking similar thoughts, mentally agreeing that the pancakes were tasty but he listened in silence with the faintest hint of amusement. No matter how frustrated or subdued he felt, Morty couldn't help but to find some form of hilarity in the fact that Rick, somehow, always found a way to apologize without actually apologizing. It was just so.. so _Rick_ and Morty knew that he'd forgiven Rick before the man ever finished his statement but the words tugged at the teen's heartstrings.

For a man so assured and arrogant, Rick didn't think much of himself and though he'd known to some degree, Morty was really starting to accept and understand just what Birdperson had meant when he said that Rick was hurting inside. _Defense Mechanism._ Morty's mind whispered painfully. Rick always seemed so above it all, so untouchable, but as the boy's eyes met his companion's, taking in the darkness there, the pain below the surface, the regret, Morty knew that he'd hit the nail on the head.

As he'd been doing a lot lately, Morty weighed his thoughts with care, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say, absently picking at his pancakes before finally deciding on a course of action, "You're not a good person, Rick. I-I've seen you do some -- some real fucked up shit."

The vampire stared into Rick's eyes, unwilling to back down in the way he felt, no matter how intense it felt, "But I've seen you do some really amazing things t-too, Rick. Y'know. Good things. Selfless things. You deny it, Rick, but I know you willingly sacrificed yourself for me when time was broken and my collar wouldn't latch. You put my dad in a daycare so he wouldn't get hurt. You got buff as shit with Summer and beat up _the Devil_ because he back stabbed Summer. You call my mom sweetie, no matter how annoyed you are even though you call the rest of us pieces of shit."

Morty glanced over towards the empty pile of hay that’d once housed the tiny pig and felt his mouth go dry, his throat getting thick and he didn't want to continue, to taint Rick's view of him, but he couldn't stop the truth from crossing his lips even if he wanted too, not when he Rick was hurt and exposed and he had the ability to reach out with his own shortcomings.

"I didn't like Wilbur because the blood was hot, Rick. I liked it because I could taste the fear. I-I-I could feel it fighting me with everything it had, fighting for life, and I felt -- I felt _powerful."_

Morty clenched his fists, unable to look at Rick as his memories took him somewhere he didn't want to be, somewhere he couldn't pull away from and Morty tensed, "Before I learned how to run from monsters on our adventures, before you came.. I got bullied Rick. Worse than I do now. I wasn't fast enough. Could never get away. And I _hated_ it. I used to fantasize about hurting them, Rick. And _I liked it_ . When I felt that pig struggling I thought of them, about what it would feel like if they were fighting me and I was overpowering _them_ and making them feel afraid. Like I was afraid."

Morty's eyes were hard, dark and brimming with long passed anger, a sort of fury that took years to fade but the teen continued, "W-we all have light and dark inside of us, Rick. That's what it means to be human."

Morty’s words had sparked something horrible to life inside of Rick, and when the boy fell silent he snarled and dug his nails into his thigh through his pants, unable to keep his words in a moment longer, and turned pained eyes up to glare into his grandson’s face as he said, "I know I'm not a good person Morty. I've killed.. countless beings. I destroyed an entire universe when I smashed that battery, Morty, without even blinking. I’ve drained all the energy from a sun in a populated solar system. I've created weapons of mass destruction, good ones, and used them. Morty, I've killed people on every scale it's even possible to do so, from genocide to homicide, and d-doing good things sometimes doesn't mean shit next to that. When I'm kind, when I spare someone, it soothes my conscience just a little bit, I prove to myself that, once in awhile, on a whim, when the stars align and I'm feeling guilty enough or generous enough, I _can_ do good, but it doesn't mean anything."

Rick sighed shakily and pushed his free hand through his hair and then covered his eyes.

"I abandoned my daughter. I created an entire company just to hurt Summer because she liked that asshole better than me. I didn't give a shit which Jerry we got back from the Daycare and I left that on you. A-and I got you killed because I was too hungover to make sure your school was safe for you."

A shudder of breath and Rick kept talking, the words cracking, achingly full of pain that he couldn't hide that away without upsetting Morty further.

"I could kill this entire planet in less time than takes to make popcorn and I tell myself that _not_ doing so, that leaving them alive on my sufferance somehow proves shit, but it's the actions _you do_ take that prove who you really are. And-" Rick jerked his head up and reached out suddenly, pulled Morty's chin up and looked him in the eyes fiercely.

"Wanting to do bad things doesn't make you a monster. Enjoying that power is human too. A-and even if you'd wanted it badly enough- i-if you'd wanted or needed the fear, the sensation of a life slipping away under your hands, I'd still love you. I'd have brought you every person that ever so much as looked at you funny if you wanted to feed on them, Morty. I'd have hurt them for you if you couldn't bear it yourself but needed the taste. Covered it up if you needed to chase- to hunt. While we were making pancakes, three states over, a bunker door unlocked letting four people no one would miss free because you didn't need that, because you _chose_ to eat blood that tastes fresh and interesting, blood flavoured with chocolate, rather than blood spiced with pain. B-but I'd do anything for you, Morty, a-and just putting that on you makes me sick because you don't deserve to have to know that."

Rick startled, eyes darting to his hand before he jerked it away sharply, like his mere touch might taint Morty. But he stayed where he was, head a little too far back, eyes wide, body tense, quivering almost, like a bridled horse forced into stillness while wolves circled just outside of sight. And he wanted so badly to force this down, to drink until the guilt was gone... but running wasn't just physical, and this was his apology for running from Morty. So he just tried to breathe, and held himself still.

 

* * *

 

Morty didn't know what to say. Or what to do.

When he'd thought about Rick being hurt inside, or that he had some guilt, Morty never imagined that it could run as deep as it did. Never, for a single second, had he thought that Rick could, or would, feel so much regret for his actions. He'd turned every good thing Morty said around, made the actions seem cheap and lacking, like they somehow paled in comparison to what he'd done but they didn't and as Morty caught another whiff of the bitter bleach scent from earlier he realized, with no small amount of heartbreak, that the dark and negative emotion now had a name, and that name was _self loathing_.

Beside him, furthest away from Rick, the vampire clenched his fist. _I got you killed because I was too hungover to make sure your school was safe for you._

The words echoed in his brain like a scream through a canyon and Morty wanted nothing more than to somehow shield Rick with more than his brainwaves. He wanted to protect Rick, _from himself,_ but when the older man spoke about what he would have done, the darkness he would have imposed if that's what Morty needed, if that's what it took, Morty felt a sob rip from his throat.

It was an ugly thing, something tainted with years of neglect, something dredged up from the darkest, loneliest and most hollow parts of his heart and it was a sound of misery. It was a sound of remembrance and pain. Not because of what Rick said, but because of what it meant for Morty, what it meant _to_ him, and the teen scrambled to explain before Rick could get the wrong idea, his words choked with emotion, "I don't care about any of that, Rick."

Morty swallowed down his need to cry, but the tears still spilled over his cheeks and he realized that he wouldn't be able to get it out without support. He needed that closeness, he needed to feel the warmth of somebody who loved him, and, with a grace he still hadn't really figured out, Morty was curling half way up against the side Rick had turned towards him and laying his head on the scientist's shoulder, his silent tears dripping onto Rick's lab coat as he hugged the elder's arm to his chest, feeling Rick's muscles quiver with emotion and his own tremble in response.

"I-I was.. So alone, Rick. I had nobody. I.. I was just some.. Some twerpy.. Weird.. kid. I was just nobody and Mom and Dad didn't care. They were fighting all the time, too much. They didn't see me, Rick. And Summer.. She had her own life, her own problems, Rick. But she had friends and I didn't. I was just alone, Rick, with my own thoughts. That I was weird and not good enough and so many more and.. "

Morty swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, his lower lips quivering and he whispered, "I was only 13 but I thought about dying, Rick. That it would be.. Y'know.. Better. Better for everyone."

The brunet practically convulsed as he contained another dark and miserable sound inside, swallowing it down to continue, "But then Mom said that my grandpa was coming to live with us. And I imagined an old man playing checkers, Rick. Watching Jeopardy. And I was happy with that thought. That maybe, _maybe_ I wouldn't be alone anymore, that there would be time for me but then.. Then it was you, _Rick._ And you're Rick Sanchez! You're a genius! You've taken me to places I could never even dream, Rick. We sit on the couch and watch Ball Fondlers and you give me wafer cookies and tell me I'm good.. And then.. With the giants and the bar.. In the bathroom I.. I almost," Morty couldn't say it, couldn't admit what almost happened, "And you made it all better Rick. You saved the adventure and we gave the schmeckles to the villagers and the you.. You.. You killed King Jellybean, Rick. And I know that when we go on adventures now you stand outside the bathroom door. I know you've incepted my dreams, Rick. Protected me even in my mind."

Morty started crying in earnest, unable to keep it inside, clinging to Rick as though he would keep the memories from somehow being a dream, "I was just some nobody, a kid nobody wanted and now I have the power to snap bones and destroy entire worlds. I've hunted aliens and stopped time and trashed an entire planet trying to get laid and went inside dreams and played Roy and.. and you made that possible. I.. I.. I never thought.."

Morty buried his face in Rick's neck, not to bite or for anything nefarious but because it was warm and it smelled like comfort and Morty knew he needed it to keep going, his words a tiny bit muffled but still audible.

"I never thought I'd have somebody in my life who loved me. _Really loved me._ Who would -- would die for me, Rick. Who would kill for me. I got attacked Rick, and it was scary but you came to my rescue. You held me on the ground Rick and I just.. I was laying there.. And I was glad it was you. That I got to see you. I was okay with you being the last thing I saw because nobody else matters but you, Rick. Because you changed everything and I wouldn't care if you destroyed a thousand planets or a million universes because I'd still wanna make pancakes and watch Ball Fondler reruns."

 

* * *

 

Hearing Morty cry was one of the worst sounds Rick could imagine.

_No.. that was a lie._

Hearing Morty scream for him over the voicemail that he'd saved to his phone and listened to at least a dozen times while waiting for Morty to wake was one of the worst things he could imagine. Hearing his grandson's shaky, slowing breaths as he died of exsanguination in his arms was definitely at the top of the list. But he hated to see the boy cry. So when Morty, in a flurry of motion, latched onto him, clinging to his arm and curling up against him as tight as the position allowed while he sobbed, despite the tremble that ran through Rick as the urge to flee after exposing himself so deeply overtook him he stayed right where he was, leaning into Morty and offering what comfort he could.

Hearing about the depth of Morty's lonely misery tapped a well of disgust that he hadn't realised he'd been developing for his daughter and her husband's treatment of Morty. Little things that had sparked a twinge of anger when they'd happened, like the way Morty lit up at any sign of affection, obviously starved for it, and the way he'd been surprised when Rick had asked him about the little metal trophy he had on his bookshelf like no one had ever done it before, had been building up inside of him. He hadn't understood how much he resented Beth for being, in her own way, as terrible a parent as he'd been. He'd expected better of her. And hearing that Morty had _ever_ considered that he didn't make the world an infinitely better place with his mere presence, let alone that anyone would be better off without him around was abhorrent to Rick.

He growled and curled his free arm around Morty, digging his fingers into the boy's hair and holding onto him as he heard Morty describe a person he didn't see himself as, but wanted to. The way Morty saw him, the things that mattered to the boy, they eased the tight breathlessness that had gripped him. He leaned his head on top of Morty's as the sobbing vampire pressed his damp face against his neck and closed his own eyes against the tears that welled up as Morty talked about his death in an entirely different and startling way, without an ounce of the anger and blame he'd had in his voice when he'd thrown that event in Rick's face yesterday.

He wanted to believe Morty, wanted to be the kind of person Morty said he was. He didn't, of course, but he felt better at least, and it was a sweeter kind of better than the dizzy numbness he'd been craving. He could feel a subtle fear building back up in him at the idea of losing this, of tainting it, but that fear had been the whole reason Rick had fucked things up so badly in the first place, so he just tried his best to ignore it.

He had something far more important to address anyway, something he _needed_ Morty to hear from him.

"You were never nobody. You were always amazing. I didn't make you anything, I just gave you the chance to show it. The world was and is a better place because you're in it. A-and if you ever think otherwise again I swear to God I'll incept you with- with dreams of jellyfish in a blender every night for the rest of eternity, literally, because you _will_ live that long, Morty."

 

* * *

 

Rick was holding him.

Morty was still bogged down by the depth of his emotions, the heavy nature his confessions and the exhaustion that really only came with finally speaking about a truth that'd been kept inside for too long but none of that mattered because Rick was holding him and it felt better and more precious than anything the vampire could have ever imagined. It wasn't like when _he_ hugged Rick. Wasn't like when he grabbed the older man and hung on until Rick acknowledged the gesture, this was _Rick reaching out to comfort him._ Nobody had ever really done it before and Morty realized why Rick felt awkward or out of place by it, but it felt good nonetheless. Even better than that, though, was the fact that the bitterness that'd clogged his nostrils, gagging him with its misery, was completely gone, replaced by something far better.

It smelled like sunlight, like warm summer days and honey and kind of like strong black tea. It smelled like affection and Morty was surrounded by it, his nose buried at the source and he clung to Rick, soaking up every single drop of it like a sponge that'd been left in a desert for years and years. But when Rick told him that he was amazing, when Rick said he wasn't a nobody and that the world was a better place with him in it.. Morty felt the words glide like fresh cool water all the way down the cracked and damaged surface of his soul directly to the foundation, soothing years of hurt with just a few words of acceptance and reassurance.

Rick was an asshole, he was hurtful and rough and said cruel things on purpose, often to Morty, but he also had a way of being real. When Rick opened up and said compassionate things, _he meant them._ There wasn't a single part of Rick that meant less than he said in those situations and Morty knew that more surely than he knew that his dad was an idiot. Rick believed he was worth something. Believed that Morty was amazing before Rick ever met him. _Believed that the world was better with him in it._ And then he'd tried to soothe him with a joke, to lighten it without being malicious, and Morty felt more safe and sure than he ever had.

The brunet peeled himself slowly away from Rick's neck, loosening his grip on the older man's arm but he didn't let go. He just looked up at Rick through damp lashes, the redness of his eyes already long gone and he offered a shaky smile, letting Rick know that he was okay or at the very least that he would be, "T-there is no God, Rick. G-gotta rip that band-aid off now, you'll thank me later."

Rick made a half-pained, half-amused sound as Morty jokingly quoted him, and he shook his head in exasperation before his expression became serious once more and he caught and held Morty's eyes as he said, "Morty I can't just let this go yet, you need to believe me when I say that if you ever feel like that again, or even if you're just sad or upset, you can talk to me. I know I can be an asshole sometimes but I wouldn't think less of you or- or dismiss something like that, or get scared away."

Rick let his breath out nervously, and then spoke quickly, blurting out his next words in a tight voice, getting them out before could second guess himself.

"I tried to kill myself last year, Morty, I'll understand."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Clair here! Sqk and I left the last chapter on a bit of an emotional cliffhanger and since we were a bit late last week (Okay maybe a lot late) we decided to try and edit this up and get it out there as soon as possible! As always, we really appreciate all the comments and kudos that you've been kind enough to drop for us and we hope that our work continues to excite you guys and leave you hungry for more! 
> 
> Since we haven't done it in a while we should also throw out a disclaimer that, neither I nor Sqk, owns the rights to Rick and Morty. 
> 
> Much love,  
> Clair and Sqk ^-^

As Morty looked up into Rick's face, taking in the seriousness there, slowly registering just what Rick had said, the brunet's eyes grew wide. Without thinking about it, his features morphed into a look of utter horror, gaze panic stricken.

His mind raced, desperately trying to determine just _when_ that'd happened and how he possibly could have missed it considering how much time they spent toget -- _Unity._ Morty's eyes flooded with pained recognition as he remembering those few days after they'd returned where Rick remained within the garage, not moving to eat or sleep or go even to the bathroom.

_He could have died in there. He could’ve died in the garage and you wouldn't have realized it._

It was wrong, completely and utterly _unthinkable_ to imagine a world where Rick didn't exist, where he wasn't in his sci-fi workshop, insulting every government ever thought up, drinking and belittling Jerry’s intellect. It couldn't happen, it simply _couldn't exist._ A world without Rick was.. It was.. Morty's thoughts screeched to a halt and he considered that for a second, considered what his life would look like without Rick and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He could feel the ghost of acid in his throat, and the teen felt like he couldn't breathe, felt like every single cell in his body was violently rejecting the idea and leaving him unable to push forward. There couldn't be a life without Rick, not for Morty.

_There was no Morty without Rick._

Despite not needing to breathe, Morty could feel himself starting to hyperventilate and he grabbed the lapels of Rick's lab coat, jerking the vibrant haired man around to completely face the vampire, his eyes wild. "You can never do that, Rick. Not ever! Don't _ever_ think about doing that again, Rick Sanchez!"

His grandpa's last name sounded strange on his tongue but he didn't regret it. He needed Rick to see, needed him to _understand._

Morty sagged forward, his forehead pressing to the swell of Rick's chest just above his heart, fingers still clinging loosely to the older man's coat, but there was an underlying air of defeat there. Mossy green eyes squeezed shut and the vampire's heart throbbed because, the fact of the matter was, _eventually,_ one way or another, whether it was disease, or a shootout in space, or even just the slow decay of time, Rick _would die._

Rick would die and he would be alone.

The brunet whispered his companion's name unconsciously, imagining as he stood over Rick's coffin, youthful and untouched by the passage of time and Morty felt himself nearly retch.

_You're gonna live forever, and Rick isn't. No matter what, you'll lose him eventually and then who's gonna protect you? Who is gonna help you then? Who is gonna care enough to...?_

Morty took a deep breath, trying to calm down, trying not to burst back into tears again before a strange and detached sort of logic burrowed its way into his conscious, offering him an alternative, a thought that spread through his conscious mind like a virus, infecting everything it touched.

 _But it doesn't have to be that way, does it?_ And suddenly the vampire was near assaulted by a different sort of thought all together. Rick didn't have to die. _Not permanently._

Morty swallowed and considered it. Rick, healthy and strong, graceful and near unstoppable. Unchanging. Undying. _Immortal._ And Morty didn't know why he hadn't rekindled that original thought sooner. Rick could be a vampire, he could do science and orchestrate adventures and run around causing trouble and mischief _forever_ . But the real question was, would Rick _want_ to live forever?

That million dollar question brought his mental pathway full circle, leading him right back to where he started and suddenly, Morty knew. He knew that, no matter what, whether Rick chose to become something more than mortal or _not,_ the brunet couldn't let him go out by his own hand, couldn't stand the thought of losing Rick to his own sadness and before he knew what he was doing, Morty was lifting his head from Rick's chest and looking straight into his eyes, determination and unyielding loyalty strong and unflinching within his gaze, "Promise me, Rick. Promise me right now that you -- you won't... That you won't ever..” Morty choked on the end of his sentence before powering on, "Promise that y-you won't leave me and I'll do the same."

Morty's voice gained a sharpness then, a thinly veiled layer of desperation as he looked up into Rick's face, his eyes mapping out the older man's features like he was seeing them for the first time, "Swear to me."

 

* * *

 

Rick watched Morty's face go panicky and scared, and started to think he might've made a mistake. He could read Morty's darting, horror-stricken face like a book, could see him searching his memory, see the guilt there at not having known. He could see that moment, like the gong of a bell, when Morty realized when it must've been. And it was then that Rick became certain that he’d fucked up.

Telling the boy was.. it was selfish. It wasn't the type of thing his grandson should ever have had to know about him: that he'd been that low during the time they'd been together, that Morty had missed it, hadn't known.

He wished he could go back in time and change things. He wished he could tell Morty about the first time he'd tried to kill himself, about burning out that sun, instead. The first time he'd ever taken a life, and he'd killed a solar system's worth, because Rick Sanchez never did things by halves. He hadn't been able to stand the sight of himself, of a mass murderer, so focused on his experiment and so fucking arrogant that he hadn't considered the potential consequences of it failing.

That would have served the same purpose. It would have given Morty solid proof that Rick could understand how he'd felt, if he really had to try and prove that his grandson wouldn't scare him off, while still providing enough distance so that the boy wouldn’t have had to think about it as an actual possibility. But ever since Morty had mentioned that lonely agony he'd been drowning in, Rick hadn't been able to think of anything else. The wall of anguish -- impassible and unyielding, that he'd felt when he'd realised how utterly he tainted everyone he cared about.. and how much better off Unity would be without him, how _proud_ he was of them for getting the fuck away from him, was impassable.

But telling Morty about it.. that was just Rick doing the same thing he'd done to Unity. He was draining the boy, taking and taking until he left him hurt and empty and hopefully strong enough to leave him behind rather than too broken to go.

Rick watched, full of regret, as Morty started to breathe too fast. But then his breath sped up as well as he was jerked around and up close to his grandson’s face as easily as a rag doll, his hands coming up to grab onto the back of the couch and to anchor himself against Morty with a hand on his thigh as he stared into the vampire's eyes, eyes that were almost feverish with emotion. Rick just gaped at Morty a moment, stunned at the intensity in his words. And when his grandson slumped into him Rick barely noticed as his hand moved from the back of the couch to pet Morty's hair soothingly. He was too focused on the certainty that he never should have put this on the boy. He was supposed to be the adult, he was supposed to protect Morty. But Rick was the danger, and he didn't know how to protect Morty from himself, not without doing something he didn't want to do.

_Selfish motherfucker._

Morty was so young, but he didn't look it when he pulled back and glared up at Rick. _Swear to me._ Rick shook his head, pulling back a little, jerky, before feeling Morty's hands tighten their hold on him, keeping him still.

"I'm s-so- I shouldn't have said that. I-i-it w-wasn't a big deal Morty." Rick winced. That was wrong, that wasn't what he was trying to tell the boy.. he didn't want Morty to dismiss what he'd been through or downplay the severity of it, so why was he trying to do that himself? What kind of example was he setting? And Rick had _wanted_ to die. He hadn't flirted with the idea, he'd fucking gone for it, and it was only his own drunkenness that had saved his life. He'd been so fucking disappointed when he'd swum out of unconsciousness and realised that he wasn't dead.. But Rick pushed those thoughts aside. Morty was what mattered right now.

"I was wrong to put that on you. I'm fine, okay? Y-you don't need to worry about me."

Morty reared back, features twisting into a look of disbelief, his voice dropping to a whisper, _"It wasn't a big deal?"_

Morty wanted Rick to recognize his mistake, he nearly prayed for the older man to backtrack, to say that he didn't mean that, but he _didn't._ He just moved on and tried to reassure him, but Morty felt anything but reassured.

_Because Rick hadn't promised._

Morty tightened his grip on the scientist's coat until he could feel the threads stretching, fabric threatening to split and Morty hissed angrily, "Don't say that, Rick. _Not to me."_

The teen clenched his jaw, trying to calm, trying not to just.. utterly _shake_ his friend, to force sense into him, "Why can't you see how much you mean to me, Rick? Don't you get it? I-i-it might be no big deal to you and _you_ might not recognize how valuable your life is, but lucky for both of us, I do!" Morty snapped, becoming more impassioned by every word that crossed his lips, "Now fucking promise me, Rick! And don't -- don’t even try to get out of it because I'm stronger and faster than you and if you think you'll get out of this hatch without swearing to me that you won't ever do that again then you don't need me to hide your brainwaves because you obviously don't have any!"

 

* * *

 

Rick’s eyes flickered back and forth between Morty's. He felt trapped, pinned down.. out of control. And Morty was so _pissed._

"Morty.. shit, M-morty I.. it was a b-big deal, okay? I-i-it was." Rick stuttered as Morty steamrolled on, wanting a promise from him, seeming utterly determined to drag it out of him, and he knew that keeping him here was no idle threat, and that the vampire could do it, easily. But..

"I can't. I can't, Morty, I can't promise that. I didn't want to leave you then any more than I do now, I was just too.. I couldn't see past it. I won't promise you something if I don't know I can keep it. If I felt like that again then knowing that I was willing to consider breaking my word to you would just.. Morty, don't ask that of me."

Morty searched Rick's face. The older man's inability to make a promise that was, in the brunet's eyes, a pretty easy one was emotionally painful. But it filled him with determination. He would be there for Rick; he wouldn't ever let the older man slip that far into the darkness again. Morty wanted to push, he wanted to force Rick to swear and to mean it, but he knew that would do more harm than good, knew that it'd just push the older man away.

Sensing the need for compromise, though he didn't want to shift an inch on his stance, Morty amended his demand. "Then promise me that you'll talk to me if you ever feel like that again. No matter what you're not getting out of here without a promise, Rick."

Rick's eyes were a little too wide as he nodded, "Okay, Morty. I promise. I will if you will, just like you said. Fucking hell.."

He'd never seen Morty look so intense before. He felt like he'd had the ground pulled out from under him, like Morty had dragged Rick off his feet and shook him until he didn't know which way was up and which was down, until he couldn't see anything except Morty's furious, stubborn face.

_He could actually do that._

There was something seriously fucked up inside of him that even at a time like this he felt a little curl of heat simmer to life low in his belly at the way Morty was treating him right now.

It was just such a relief for someone to call him on his shit though, to put a stop to thoughts like _it wasn't a big deal_ and to keep him in check. And Morty had always done that, even when he'd been tentative and shy, when they'd first started going on adventures; he'd still bitched his way through every situation he didn't agree with.

But what was once a comfort now made a part of Rick that he didn't want focused on Morty sit up and take notice. And it was getting harder to force that down.

Morty stared into the scientist's face, gauging the truthfulness of his words, the honesty of his promise, before finally deciding that he was satisfied and that Rick meant what he said.

The brunet finally let go of the older man's labcoat, and sat back on the couch, crossing his arms across his chest. He wanted to say something, wanted to push the subject further than he already had, but he could see Rick teetering close to the edge of shutting down and panicking as it was and there was still something else they hadn't talked about that left Morty feeling unsatisfied.

"Is it just.." _The emotions_ .. "Is that why you keep pulling away, Rick? Is it.." _Is it me?_

The kid was a like a fucking bloodhound with the hard questions. Rick felt wrung out and exhausted, and he slumped back onto the couch, head hanging over the back of it and staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. But this was a the heart of why he'd fucked up their morning so royally, and he knew nothing would change if he didn't give Morty something.

Telling Morty that he wanted him.. that was so far off the table it wasn't even a possibility. He withered up inside to even think it. But the gateway to that terrible secret.. maybe.

Morty had more self-control than he did. Rick had been relying on Morty to keep him from going too far for years now; this didn't need to be any different. He felt an uneasy twist of doubt about his line of thinking, but couldn't come up with anything else to give the vampire that would explain things, and leaving him thinking it was his fault somehow was as much of a non-option as the ugly, unvarnished truth.

_Here goes nothing._

"No. It's not you, not the way you're thinking. I uh.." Rick felt himself blush again and stared determinedly at the ceiling as he forced the words out, dancing closer to what he needed to say.

"You've wanted to bite me a few times since you woke, right Morty?"

The vampire's brows pulled together in a look of confusion, lost in the sudden transition and wondering where exactly Rick was trying to go with it, but the boy was willing to follow along, intrigued by the color on the other man's cheeks and his slumped posture. "Uhh, sure, Rick. I mean, it'd be kinda hard to forget almost biting you." Morty blushed and looked shyly down at his lap.

Rick bit his tongue hard and then, on a shaky breath, said, "I wanted you to do it."

He felt like he'd jumped straight off the side of a cliff with the way his stomach cramped and flew into his throat as he heard himself say those words, and he shut his eyes nervously to keep himself from looking over at his grandson as he waited to hear what Morty would say.

He didn't want to know what the vampire was thinking right now.

 

* * *

 

Dark eyebrows shot up to Morty's hairline.

That was the absolute last thing that'd he'd expected to come tumbling out of the older man's mouth and the vampire was, honestly, thrown for a loop.  

"You wanted me to bite you?"

The words sounded just as surprised as Morty felt but the teen quickly began to connect the dots. That actually explained a lot. If the little vampire felt awkward about wanting to _bite_ Rick, he couldn't even imagine what it must be like on the other side of that coin, _to want to be bitten._ The brunet would have tried to hide it too, probably would have pushed Rick away, and he was reminded of the strange heat he felt from time to time, when he sexualized Rick and his actions in ways that he shouldn't, when his thoughts took on an unnatural attraction. The brunet felt slightly sick, realizing how guilty Rick must have felt, even though the older man's desires were, surprisingly, more innocent than Morty's.

Realizing that he hadn't really said anything and that Rick might be feeling on edge, Morty rubbed the back of his neck, "Jeez Rick, I'm, y'know, I'm sorry. I don't really know how to turn off the allure thing yet. I'll try harder but, I'm not gonna lie to you, it's really hard to resist sometimes. You smell really good, Rick."

The tension that had been coiling Rick up inside released sharply as Morty apologised needlessly, while at the same time a flush of pleasure swirled through him at Morty telling him he smelled good, that he was hard to resist. It left him dizzy and relieved.. and excited.

_Oh Sanchez, you're so fucked._

But, mostly, he was just so grateful that Morty wasn't disgusted with or frightened of him. His grandson was just being himself: thoughtful, level-headed, self-effacing. They'd get through this.

"It's okay, Morty. It might not be something you can control."

The way he moved, the confidence his new strength gave him, the pale perfection of his skin, the hunger in his eyes.. Calling it an 'allure' was such a load of shit, like it was something tacky rather than the sheer otherworldly perfection Morty exuded as easily as Rick breathed. He would have laughed at the inadequacy of his grandson’s words if he hadn’t still been so on-edge.

"A-and if anything I'm probably uh.. overly susceptible anyway. I'm not scared of you, and I'm more than a little bit of a xenophile. You're dangerous. If you weren't, you know.. _you,_ I'd be willing to risk it just to check that box."

That was such a tangled mess of truth and lies that it made Rick’s head ache. _Fuck, this was such a minefield._

Morty nearly shivered at the thought of Rick letting the brunet bite him. The mental image of Rick tilting his head back _willingly, wanting_ to be bitten, practically gagging for it, left Morty hungry for blood, eager to practically lap the lust from Rick's skin, but the mental image shifted without warning and suddenly it was _another_ vampire, one Rick sought out to bite him in Morty's place, to let him experience what it was like and Morty was boiling over with jealousy.

Rick was _his. Rick belonged to him._

The teen wanted to bare his fangs and hiss, possessive and angry, but he tried to force the emotion down, swallowing hard before replying, "Looks like we're both freaks, Rick. Glad I'm not the only one feeling, y'know, out of place a-and kinda awkward."

Rick gave a shaky laugh at that and lifted his head, opening his eyes and looking over at his grandson.

"Happy to oblige." He joked, before he caught sight of Morty's expression and his mouth went dry.

The way Morty was looking at him made him feel.. _owned._ He looked livid, full of a wild, jealous, covetous need to control his territory that Rick was often a slave to himself, but never with such intensity. Vampirism seemed to have made Morty more than a little possessive, and it thrilled Rick to know that it was directed at him.

But the genius also felt more steady and himself now that he had a solid excuse to ensure that their relationship would survive his new perversion, and it gave him his confidence back. He sat up, calculating interest obvious in his eyes as he leaned toward the vampire.

"Ahh, you really didn't like that. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Rick grinned, teasing and sly, before sitting straighter and saying, "Look, Morty, you've got all these new instincts and desires, and I'm more than a little thrown to be feeling some of that too. A-and obviously keeping it hidden away isn't going to work. You might've been joking about that vampire safeword, but I think we need one."

Morty's cheeks were tinted pink, half of the flush of color shameful and the other portion undeniably pleased.

Rick had _seen._ He tried to keep the possession contained but it'd shown through and Rick had caught it. _But he wasn't disgusted._ Instead he made a joke out of it, teased Morty about being _greedy_ of all things and Morty giggled, vaguely mortified but unable to sidestep the light, carefree atmosphere that'd shown through the dark and smothering heaviness of their previous conversation,  "I guess you're right, Rick."

Morty didn't tell Rick that it wasn't due to his instincts at all, that he just didn't want anybody touching Rick, that he couldn't stomach the idea for more reasons than just territorial possession. "A safeword? Like.. For, y'know, when I really wanna bite you?"

The idea had merit.

It'd be nice to know when Rick was backing off because of his awkward desires rather than just to get away from the teen and he couldn't deny how much it appealed to him, "Alright, Rick. A-and maybe we could use it for, I dunno, when I go to school and stuff. If I need you or somethin'."

"Y-yeah, Morty. Good idea. You don't want to go blurting anything out at dinner either, not if you want to keep our family in the dark. Okay." Rick grinned wide and viciously teasing, "Twilight. Th-that's the safeword. So if you ever need me to get you out of a situation you just tell me all about your favourite movie, buddy."

Morty grinned and gave Rick a playful shove, one that may or may not have had a little bit too much strength behind it, but the teen didn't care. He was just glad that they'd moved on from.. from what they talked about before. He liked getting Rick to open up, even enjoyed opening up to Rick but sometimes it got too heavy and a bit too deep and Morty was glad to step into lighter waters.

"Gee Rick, you sure are swell. Such a pal." The teen's smile finally returned, making his features look less strained, "You just wanna hear more about Twilight without having to bring it up yourself. No need to be ashamed, Rick. Jasper is a real babe.”

"Jasper, Jasper, Jasper. Try and- and contain yourself, Morty, it's unseemly." Rick said, smiling easily now as he leaned back in from Morty's playful shove.

"Maybe I'm trying to limit your puppy love gushing to emergencies only, Morty, did you ever think of that?" The tension was finally draining out of Rick as he slowly started to accept that they'd made it through that shit show of emotion in one piece.

"I wish we'd hashed this out before breakfast, though, Morty. Look at those pancakes, you let them get all gross. Whatever, I'm still starved and I don't want to cook again, how do you feel about putting your control to the test and going out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just wanted to give a tiny apology for all of you out there who might be feeling a bit annoyed with my inconsistency where Morty's stutters are concerned. When Sqk and I originally wrote this I actually didn't really include any of Morty's stutters just because it was really difficult and time consuming for me and, unfortunately, adding them in while I edit isn't as easy as it sounds so if that bugs you guys or makes the character seem less authentic then I apologize. 
> 
> XO,  
> Clair


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Here we are again guys! They're finally leaving the hatch! I'm incredibly happy to get this chapter out there and I know Sqk is too. This chapter is a bit longer than many of the others that we've put out there but I'm sure that none of you mind haha I hope you've all been well and, as always, Sqk and I really want to thank every single person that's left comments/kudos or subscribed to this story! You're all wonderful and we can't wait to put more of this story out there for you guys to enjoy! 
> 
> xoxo,  
> Clair & Sqk

Morty looked down at the gross mess that'd once been his breakfast with a hint of mourning. It really  _ was _ a shame. They were tasty pancakes and Rick had put more than a little effort into them only to have the fluffy disks go to waste. But the idea of going out, being around people and seeing what the real world looked like under the scope of his new senses was more than enough to quell the disappointment Morty felt at not having been able to eat them in time. 

"Yeah, they w-were good, Rick. Maybe we can make them again sometime?" The teen smiled at the thought of cooking more regularly with Rick but the offer to go out for food was, at the moment, far more exciting and the teen was practically bouncing where he sat, "That sounds great, Rick! Hey can we go to that one place? The place with the super burgers and they do that one thing with the cheese that's really good? I've been wanting a chocolate shake like you wouldn’t --" 

Morty stopped talking, deflating a bit as he realized that he probably couldn't eat those foods anymore. Not really. He imagined they'd probably taste kind of disgusting if the bland syrup was anything to go on, maybe even worse since whatever they ordered wouldn’t have a single drop of blood in it. The vampire frowned, his excitement dimmed and decided that he'd probably be stuck taking his meals from home and trying not to be envious of Rick stuffing his face with tacos or greasy fast food or whatever delicious meal struck his fancy for the time being. 

"Hey Rick, you got a thermos around here? Or a-a metal water bottle or somethin’?"

 

* * *

 

"We can cook together anytime you want, Morty." Rick said before frowning thoughtfully when Morty cut himself off with a pout. 

"S-so, how does that work then, you think if it doesn't have blood in it then it won't taste like anything at all? Regular food still appeals to you, obviously, but your body might not consider it food if you don't get anything you actually need from it.." Rick trailed off thoughtfully.

The teen shrugged. 

"When I took a bite of your pancakes in the kitchen it was kind of gross, Rick. The cakes were still good and all but without the sauce it kinda just fell through. The syrup tasted really bland. Not even sweet or anything. I-it just kinda tasted like thick liquid. S’weird." 

Morty looked as though he were grieving as he mourned the loss of beef dripping with grease and more calories than anybody should consume in a week, let alone one sitting. 

"It's fine, Rick. I'll just tag along. Bet there's some tasty blood in the fridge I haven't tried yet. Dunno, could probably dip fries in it or something."

"Interesting.. but the molasses in the pancakes was good. Did you get the full flavour of the pancakes? You could taste the cocoa and everything? A-and in the chocolate sauce you got the citrus and chocolate?" Rick was up off the couch and rummaging around as he spoke, finally pulling out a slim metal water bottle. 

"Th-this, should keep blood cold. Which is better than letting it go rancid, even if you prefer it hot." He tossed the bottle across the room to Morty and rocked back and forth on his heels expectantly.

Morty nodded, "Yeah, it was all there. Thought I was gonna cry when I tasted the chocolate, Rick."

The little vampire cracked a grin, catching the water bottle with ease, "I could taste all the good stuff but when the blood sauce was gone it just lost flavor. Kinda like when you're sick and congested, y'know?" Morty stood from his place on the couch and sped over to the fridge, opening it and peering inside with a hum. There was lots to choose from, most of it stuff he hadn't tried yet. After a brief moment of indecision, Morty decided to be brave and choose one he hadn’t tried before; grabbing one that was lighter, the liquid inside nearly orange rather than red and he looked over at Rick with a raised bow. 

"Is this stuff gonna melt my face off?"

Rick smiled smugly at Morty's response. He didn't think he'd ever get sick of hearing the vampire extol the virtues of his cooking. Then he walked over to his grandson, reading the symbols on the side of the bag of blood and trying hard not to let his smile turn into a smirk. 

"Y-you better try it first. It might be.. odd. It's from a Lophotrozoa; they're sort of like a mollusk, I guess."

Morty looked down at the bag uneasily before snapping his gaze back up towards Rick. "Jeez Rick, please tell me that a Lophotrozoa isn't some kind of giant octopus o-o-or something. I like octopi way too much to eat them, Rick." Morty felt a tiny bit squeamish, trying not to think about Rick getting the stuff from galactic snails or some funky form of cephalopod.

"Look j-just taste it first before I tell you anymore. It's a delicacy, Morty. A little spicy but really good. A-and it's not like an octopus." Rick's smile got a little more ingratiating, and he stepped closer and nudged the hand Morty was holding the bag with up to the boy's mouth.

Morty wasn't convinced. 

Half the time it felt like Rick urging him to do anything only lead to the older man taking the piss, trying to sneak in a quick prank, and Morty wasn’t entirely sure that this time was any different. Still half convinced that the bag contained something that was gonna taste like a mouthful of seawater, the vampire cautiously brought the plastic to his mouth and scored a tiny hole in the bag with his fang, hesitating only for the briefest moment before taking a quick suck. Though begrudging, the teen admitted that Rick was right. The blood was spicy but not like the blue stuff, not like it was burning holes in his mouth. This was different, the sort of spice that made it pop, leaving the inside of his mouth tingly and Morty hummed, taking another small sip. 

"S'good Rick. Flavorful. Makes my tongue feel funny. Like I ate pop rocks." 

"See? D-don't look at me like that." Rick said, before waiting until Morty had taken another, less tentative sip to say, "It's a slug,” and laugh at Morty's reaction.

Morty inhaled the liquid in choked surprise when Rick chose to drop that little bomb before doubling over, coughing and hacking, very nearly dropping the blood in the process. But, eventually, the immortal recovered enough to send Rick a half hearted glare. "You're a real asshole, Rick." 

“Sure am, Morty.” Rick agreed with a grin. Then he turned away and started up the ladder, calling over his shoulder to his grandson. "Come on, Morty! Back to the kitchen first, and then we'll go." He wanted to get going, but first he wanted to test one more thing.

Morty wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and walked over to the couch, pouring the blood into the metal container and screwing the lid closed. 

"Just you wait, Rick. Now that I'm all quiet and speedy, you're gonna get it. Nothing will be safe or sacred." Morty grinned wickedly.

"Bring it, Vampirella." Rick said with a laugh as he disappeared through the hatch. He was in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge, when Morty came in behind him, and Rick pulled out a leftover steak and dropped it on the counter. 

"Try that. And this, and this." The milk jug followed, and then a block of cheese. 

"Tell me if any of it still tastes like anything. Maple syrup isn't an animal product, maybe that's why. Y-you're interesting, Morty, did you know that?"

Morty blinked owlishly. He'd never been called  _ interesting  _ before. Weird, sure, boring, strange, a huge pain in the ass. Those were all adjectives normally used to describe the brunet but never _ interesting. _

Not really thinking past Rick's unintentionally touching claim, Morty grabbed the milk and popped off the top, taking a big long drink before actually registering the taste. The vampire felt himself go green, his stomach immediately recoiling in disgust and he dropped the container on the counter, leaning over the sink to retch sharply. The taste was foul, half bland and half soured against his taste buds and Morty gagged, nearly emptying his stomach before finally reigning it in and standing back up, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long drink with a pleased sigh, utterly uncaring that the blissful liquid had once belonged to a slug. 

"Man Rick, that's a -- a no go on the milk." 

Morty felt his stomach roll at the mere mention of it but he pushed himself away from the sink and approached the cheese, giving the stuff a weary look. He didn't particularly  _ want _ to eat it, under the assumption that it’d probably taste pretty similar but Rick had called him interesting and the brunet wanted to stay that way, prompting him to continue. Grabbing a knife, Morty sliced a small bit and cut off the corner before handing the rest of the piece to the scientist and popping the little corner in his mouth. It was unpleasant. Bland and utterly tasteless, the waxy texture along his teeth and the surface of his tongue made Morty want to spit it out and, maybe, gag just a little bit more. 

But he finally swallowed it with a grimace. 

"Jeez Rick.. You sure know how to pick 'em.." He hoped the steak would yield better results and, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, Morty just grabbed the meat with bare hands and took a big bite. Surprisingly enough, it was flavorful. He never would have thought raw steak could be described as delicious but Morty hummed, chewing quickly and taking another large bite, his canines sinking into it like butter. It was like textured blood, not nearly as fresh as the stuff he’d consumed so far, especially the sow’s blood, but it was still delicious. Somehow the vampire could tell that the meat came from a herbivore, he could taste it within the proteins in a way that he simply couldn’t with only the blood to go off of, but it was good, good enough to continue eating. Which he did. Morty stood there and shamelessly devoured the entire thing like a midnight snack, before tossing the bone in the garbage and sucking his fingers clean with a content sigh.

 

* * *

 

When Morty retched up the milk Rick felt a twinge of regret for allowing his curiosity to put Morty in another bad situation and he was seconds from putting it all away again when the boy gamely sliced off a piece of cheese. Rick held the piece Morty handed him and watched as his grandson ate the tiny corner of that, too, without hesitation. 

A complicated mix of regret and a kind of pleased avarice at how willingly Morty followed his request filled him up at the sight. But Rick didn't expect him to like the cheese at all if the milk hadn't done it, so he wasn't surprised at Morty's reaction. Then he watched as the vampire just devoured the steak and Rick was back to fascinated interest. 

Morty looked human, or close to it as long as he wasn't gliding around the room all full of power and flexibility, but he wasn't. Not anymore. Rick quirked a smile as Morty licked his fingers clean and absentmindedly ate the piece of cheese he'd been given. But as he went to speak, a squeaky voice called out, "Heeey Rick, I'm fiiiinished," moments before the Meeseeks came in through the door to the garage. 

"Crap, okay. Hey Morty, I forgot my lab coat, grab it for me, would you? I'll deal with him and with cleaning up this-" he gestured the remains of breakfast, "and put it on my shelf in the fridge. No one will touch it there. Then we can go."

Morty raised a questioning brow at the blue haired man who was, incidentally, still wearing his lab coat but, not in the habit of denying Rick much of anything, Morty shrugged. 

"S-sure thing, Rick. I wanted to put on some more sunscreen and some of those pants you got me anyway." 

Feeling somewhat obliged to acknowledge the Meeseeks because of the fact that the blue creature had helped spray the windows, giving him and Rick some time alone to make breakfast together and eventually have a really intense conversation that helped clear the air, Morty flashed it a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Meeseeks." 

The vampire turned on heel and trotted back into the garage, happily dropping down into the hatch without even so much as a grunt. Scanning the room, Morty quickly found the abandoned coat and he scooped it up, feeling his stomach twist a bit at the sight of all the bloody burn marks along the front lapels where he'd accidently spewed it all over Rick in startled surprise. The corner of his lips quirked though. As bad as he felt it _ had _ been funny and Morty could admit that spewing blood all over Rick, and the surprised look that resulted from that, was worth the minor flickers of guilt. The curly haired vampire wore his amused smile like a badge as he hunted up his own clothes, stepping into new pants and then slathering himself with sunscreen, careful to rub all of it in this time lest Rick tease him once again, and he scooped up the coat, practically flying back up the ladder rungs, excited to experience the world as a brand new vampire alongside Rick.

 

* * *

 

Rick was ready and waiting for Morty in the garage when he came back up; he grabbed up the labcoat from Morty and rifled through it, pulling out his portal gun first and laying it on the table. That was followed by a wide array of other bits and technological bobs, and Rick tucked them all away into his various pockets before tossing the bloody labcoat down the hole leading to the basement and kicking the hatch closed. 

Once he was finished he gave Morty a sharp, searching look until he spotted the cord of the necklace he'd given the vampire tucked into the teen's shirt. Then he snatched up the portal gun and shot a portal, stepping through without looking back and calling, "Come on, Morty," over his shoulder as he did. 

Morty stared at the eerie green portal with a weary sense of caution. Part of him was afraid, afraid that every human would smell as good as Rick and that he'd lose it being surrounded by them. He was scared of his clothes failing, of blistered and blackened flesh and he was scared of being forced to break the bead and sit in a cage.

_ I'm no stranger to scary situations, Morty, I deal with them all the time but, charging head first into them like a bull, that's how we grow as people. _

The vampire steeled himself, and stepped through behind Rick, shivering as the portal's surface glided smoothly over his hypersensitive skin but as he exited, the teen was absolutely assaulted by stimuli. They came out in an alley off of a crowded street. The sun had just passed below horizon and the sky was a riot of sunset colours, reflecting off of the windows of the tall buildings surrounding them. He could smell lingering hints of rain from the stretching expanse of darkened clouds blanketing the sky above, dampness within the stones and a rank sort of odor that came with alleyways, strong hints of urine and sun warmed concrete, smog and carbon emissions. The sound of movement consumed him. The bustle of cars, people walking along the sidewalk, the near screams of chatter all around them and Morty felt overwhelmed by all of it, by the sights and sounds of his surroundings, but the teen swallowed and tried to focus on Rick, inhaling his familiar scent, focusing on the older man and how he looked in the light, the way he stood proud and tall, a predator in his own right and Morty tried to calm down, knowing Rick would never let anything happen to him. But it really didn't help much of anything. He still felt anxious, still felt uncomfortable and out of place, still felt like he might snap or melt or some other series of unfortunate events.

Rick took in the sight of his grandson, looking wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed in the mouth of the alley, and his expression softened. He looked over his surroundings with a new eye, smelling the air and listening to the bustle of a big city, seeing the press of people moving quickly home after a long day, and reached out a hand to Morty. 

The little vampire only hesitated for a moment before he reached out and clasped Rick's hand, and he reeled his grandson in, tucking him against his side and draping his arm over the boy's shoulders. 

"Y-you're fine, Morty, I've got you. Tell me your safeword, Morty, say it for me." 

The touch of Rick's fingers against Morty’s own felt electric and the contact immediately soothed his frazzled nerves, allowing him a moment to breathe without fear but when Rick pulled him close, tucking the vampire into his side, Morty practically melted. His muscles unclenched, going loose with relaxation and a layer of calm. Rick wouldn't let him hurt anybody, Rick would never let him bear that burden on his conscience. 

The teen looked up at his companion, taking note of the seriousness of his features and Morty was more than a little positive that, were he unable to say his safeword, Rick would spirit him away and they'd be back home in an instant. "Twilight. My safeword is Twilight."

"That's good, Morty. A-and if you say it, we'll go right home." Rick said with an answering smile. 

Seeing the tension flow out of Morty was gratifying, and he didn't plan to betray the trust Morty had in him. He steered the boy along the sidewalk, taking his time and letting Morty get accustomed to their surroundings, glad that he'd chosen to portal in a few blocks from their destination to give the newly turned vampire the chance to take in some of the sights and sounds and, apparently, smells of London. 

Rick laughed softly to himself as Morty leaned a little out from him and took a deep breath of the air before nudging in tight to his side again and looking around more and more instead of focusing on his feet or on Rick as they walked. 

Morty was absolutely enamored with their surroundings. Everything was new, received by the vampire's senses in a way that left him feeling as though he'd never seen the human race before. Everything around him was different than it’d been before. Life existed in a variety of colors he’d never really noticed and suddenly Morty could tell the exact difference between the varying shades of white and grey, the difference between each human that passed them by and the unique combination of scents each person held. He could pick apart the smells around him, layering them, telling one from the other and pinpointing their origin with ease. He could hear the voices around them, the individual accents of each native speaker catching his attention and making the vampire almost gape at his new born sense of recognition. 

From what Morty could gather, they were somewhere in the UK, surrounded by black cabs, cars all driving on the left, double-decker busses, and the teen couldn't remember the last time he was so excited. It was incredibly rare for Rick to waste his time taking them to places on Earth. He tended to favor other dimensions or alien worlds rather than the planet they lived on and what it had to offer. Morty had never left the US and he’d only ever been out of his own state a handful of times. The vampire was beyond entranced and slowly distancing himself from Rick's side as they walked, eyes alight, jerking around to look at his surroundings and take in the sights and sounds. Morty was thrilled. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it'd be, wasn't as overwhelming as it'd been when he first stepped out of the portal and Morty was excited to get wherever they were going.

"What're we eatin', Rick?"

"Burgers, fries and shakes, like you wanted. Well.. steak tartare and chips. Pretty close." Rick answered as they came to a set of glass doors with painted black frames and a red awning with 'Balthazar' written across it in gold letters. 

"We'll get milkshakes after. This isn't really a burger joint but I don't know that many places that serve raw minced beef, especially since I figured we'd save braving the sunlight for another time." He added once they'd gone inside and been seated.

 

* * *

 

Morty grinned at Rick. The older man was always a step ahead, a series of steps actually, and the brunet couldn't help but to find that incredibly attractive. Rick had plans within plans, a response for any situation, a vague inkling at every possible outcome and it left Morty a tiny bit breathless, always had. The man was a genius for sure, but it was more than that. He was also a  _ master strategist, _ one that was prepared for anything and Morty couldn't help but to smile in the face of Rick's brilliance where the minced beef was concerned. 

Especially since the older man had, _ literally, _ just discovered it was something Morty enjoyed. 

Pulling back from his thoughts, Morty took in his surroundings, with more than a little awe. The place was nicely lit, the warmth of illumination spilling across the restaurant in a way that was almost dim but held just enough light to be intimate and comfortable. Mirrors adorned the walls, large and attention drawing, and a huge wall of booze and high class alcohol sat against the far wall, reminding Morty more of a place from a movie than an actual restaurant. A bit daunted in the face of being somewhere obviously high class, the teen picked up a menu and scanned the items, trying to give his mind something to do but that only resulted in knotting his stomach with discomfort at not only the many dishes that he wasn't familiar with but also because of how  _ expensive _ everything was. 

Morty didn't know the exact exchange rate for English pounds to dollars but he knew that a pound was higher value, and therefore more expensive, leaving the brown haired boy to nearly flounder when a waiter approached their table.

But as soon as the waiter arrived Rick caught his attention, asking, "How's the octopus salad?" and giving Morty a little smirk as the man assured him it was excellent. 

"Hmm, well, maybe another time. He'll have the steak tartare entrée and water, I'll have the Balthazar cheeseburger and your glenlivet, thank you." Rick waited until the waiter had taken their menus and left before letting himself grin wider at Morty.

 

* * *

 

A tiny stab of horror struck Morty at the teasing question directed towards the waiter, wondering if Rick was going to eat one of his favorite animals in front of him, or worse, insist that he try it himself, but when the vampire caught sight of Rick's little smirk and the casual way he switched gears, the brunet smiled in return, only to have his mind screech to a halt when Rick took control and ordered for him. Morty's eyes glazed a little bit, and he could feel his breathing speed up just a fraction, a flutter coming to life inside his stomach and Morty couldn't focus, not on Rick or any of their surroundings. 

He'd never had somebody order for him before, never realized just how.. possessive the action felt, the mild dominance, the assurance that Rick knew him so well that he didn't even consider asking if Morty would rather have something else. The teen suppressed a shiver. 

It was like a date, a real date, like the ones he read about in the romance novels hidden under his bed or the short stories on his laptop, and Morty wanted to squirm. This wasn't a date, wasn't Rick taking him out to dinner in hopes of wooing him, but  _ Morty wanted it to be. _

The thought made him uncomfortable, made his skin feel too tight, like his heart was just slightly off pace. It made him nervous and self conscious but he buried it down in favor of looking around, trying to focus on anything other than Rick and the growing romanticism he was starting to feel towards the older man. It was a nightmare, one he couldn't possibly fathom, and Morty was trapped in it more surely than a fly in a web. He was caught by the brilliance that was Rick, the self assured way he carried himself, the way he looked at ease no matter where he was or what he was wearing, the way he simply existed, content and sure and Morty wanted him. 

He wanted to own and be owned. 

Feeling slightly warm, Morty tugged at the neck of his collar, hoping Rick saw it as nervousness from the crowd rather than what it really was and he spoke, looking for a distraction, his voice a bit scratchy. "This place is really nice. Have you been here before, Rick?"

"Sure, Morty. I had the tartare and their seafood platter, maybe.. six years ago? I like eating on Earth, there's a lot less that will kill you on the menu." Rick was eyeing Morty as he answered, taking in the boy's nervous twitching and darting eyes, but he kept talking rather than mentioning it. He had to trust that if this was too much for Morty he'd say something, and he wasn't completely certain that was the problem, anyway. 

"But I remembered that they had a hamburger as well. It stood out to me, hamburger listed below duck confit. That and their drinks menu.." He trailed off, frowning just a little as he continued to wonder what was going on with his grandson. 

He wanted Morty to be happy, but the little vampire didn't look it at all, and it wasn't just the other customers, or at least Rick didn’t think it was. Morty's eyes hadn't strayed around the room, much, not like he’d have expected to see if that had been true, but the boy still seemed nervous, which meant that it was probably  _ him  _ that was making his grandson feel that way. 

A voice in the back of his head whispered that he was an idiot to think that things could ever go back to normal after he'd told Morty that he wanted to be bitten by him. Rick should have known how difficult that would be for his grandson to absorb. 

Morty had always worked surprisingly hard to ignore everything that even hinted that his grandfather was anything but celibate, which was impressive for how entirely shameless and promiscuous he actually was. But Morty seemed to have the well honed blinders of a teenager that would swear up and down that they'd been immaculately conceived rather than admit that they weren't the first generation to have discovered sex. And that purposeful naiveté would be stretched to the limit with the knowledge that Rick wanted Morty to bite him. 

Even with just that sliver of the truth, there were too many movies and books and shows that sexualized vampire bites. Maybe Morty was just having a delayed reaction to realising the nuances of what Rick had, like a moron, admitted to. 

* * *

Too anxious to really appreciate the joking nature of Rick's statement about Earth cuisine or to feel disappointed by his grandfather's choice to drink, Morty found his gaze drawn towards the table cloth, suddenly incredibly interested in the individual red strands of thread that made up the fabric. 

He needed to stop. He needed to stop thinking about Rick.. Morty swallowed, unable to even admit to himself within the quiet expanse of his own hectic mind just how he was starting to think about the other man. Rick was his _grandpa._ The man was his _mother’s father_ and Morty was one fourth of his genetics. He was old enough to be Morty’s father twice over and, nine times out of ten, the man was an emotionally unattached asshole. That’d changed quite a bit since the whole vampirism thing and Morty could admit that, in that short span of time, Rick had become far more caring than he’d ever been before but that didn’t change the past. It didn’t change the fact that Rick was an alcoholic and a dick, didn’t change the fact that he was selfish and almost always callous and cold, that he had no use for somebody like Morty. Even _without_ the obvious reasons that nothing could ever happen between them the vampire was certain that Rick had absolutely no interest in a scrawny, underdeveloped teenage boy that had absolutely no experience to speak of, vampirism or no. Not that that was really the main issue _anyways_ but still. Rick wasn't interested. 

_ He'd be disgusted. And you should be too. _

The scientist found him interesting, that was all. Rick cared about him and yeah, Rick wanted Morty to bite him, but he hadn't specifically stated that he wanted  _ Morty _ to bite him, per say, he'd just implied that he wanted to be bitten by a vampire and Morty just so happened to be one. The teen frowned and, realizing that Rick had gone silent and feeling the other man's gaze on him, Morty looked up from the table intending to come up with an excuse only to pause at the odd look on Rick's face. He looked thoughtful, perhaps even slightly pained, but he was focused, staring intently at Morty and the vampire felt his stomach clench painfully. 

_ He's waiting for you to screw up and kill all these people _ . 

Morty unconsciously reached up and touched the warm and solid rock hanging around his throat like a lifeline, his mouth dry as he prepared to do the one thing he almost never did just to save his own skin and hide his shame. 

_ He prepared to lie to Rick. _

"Sorry it's just.. A lot, y'know? Everything smells so.." Morty paused, and thought about exactly what he was about to say, rolling it around in his mind.  _ How did everything smell? _

Taking a subtle inhale, barely even a breath at all, Morty was relieved, and slightly alarmed to realize that absolutely none of the humans around him held any appeal. Even over the wide range of food scents and the colorful array of varied emotions wafting through the air, Morty could still smell their blood; it was like an undertone to the situation but, unlike with Rick, he felt  _ nothing. _ It held no appeal for him, no draw whatsoever. He could have compared it to a glass of cool water, enticing on a hot day but not nearly as exciting as lemonade or an ice cold pop. It just didn't hold the same draw and Morty glanced back over at Rick, his hands clenched at his sides where the other man couldn’t see. Above all else, he could smell Rick. Tempting, wonderfully delicious Rick, tantalizing in a way that all human blood should have been, but Morty would have traded all the human blood in the entire restaurant just for a single drop of the liquid inside of Rick's veins. 

Once again realizing that he'd fallen silent, the teen tucked the information away for later and swallowed heavily, parting his lips to continue, "It's overwhelming. There's a lot of emotions and.. And.." Morty lowered his voice, "Blood. I can smell blood in the kitchen and I just.. I feel weird. Like everyone knows what I am." 

Morty felt sick, lying to Rick, but he justified it, reminding himself that he didn't  _ actually _ lie. There was a lot of blood. He could smell it in the kitchen. And there were plenty of emotions. The teen just hoped that his face didn't betray the truth and make Rick upset at him.

 

* * *

 

_ He's lying. _ Rick narrowed his eyes and then looked away toward the kitchen, taking the easy distraction to settle himself. Morty didn't need to tell him anything if he didn't want to. It wasn't his business. 

_ Even if it hurt. _

"Okay." He said softly, and then took the conversational bait Morty had offered up to him. 

"I'm not surprised that smells are the problem, Morty. Humans have a comparatively shit sense of smell, you wouldn't be used to it. The blood, I expected. But emotions..? You can smell that?" 

What an awful realisation that was. No wonder he hadn't been able to get away with keeping things from Morty.  _ Oh fuck.. could he tell how badly Rick had wanted him when he woke him up?  _ There were so many things he’d felt that he didn’t want Morty to know about, and Rick’s stomach clenched with nerves as he considered them all, but he refused to let it show. He just leaned forward instead and folded his arms on the table, resting his chin in one palm, head cocked interestedly even as part of his mind panicked quietly, because being able to smell how someone felt was also an absolutely _ fascinating  _ ability, and it was the only part of the revelation that he could focus on right now without ruining another meal shared between them in the space of an hour.

Morty brows pinched in confusion, under the previous assumption that Rick had already known about the ability from the hours spent studying up on vampires before his rebirth but it appeared not. Or maybe none of the books mentioned the ability. Maybe he was the only one? He’d read plenty of fiction in the past with vampire characters that implied each member of the undead was unique, that they had a special power of some kind. And maybe this was his. Maybe other vampires simply  _ couldn’t _ scent out the emotions of those around them and that’s why it wasn’t mentioned. Or maybe the lore was a mess. Morty didn’t have a difficult time believing that there would be a lot of guess and check work where old vampire books were concerned, something that made sense considering they were supposed to be mythical creatures and there would be a pretty big distinction between authors who knew they existed and knew their traits and weaknesses and authors who were simply fascinated with the occult and trying to make it seem like they knew things that they actually didn’t. Morty honestly didn’t know but, regardless, it seemed that his ability was something new to Rick, something he hadn’t known or expected.

"Yeah, well, I mean, kinda." The teen scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat. "I can smell it but I don't always know what it is, y'know? But they all smell pretty unique. Some are bitter,"  _ Self loathing. _ "And some of them are kinda sweet and natural," _ Affection. _ "And uh, maybe a bit spicy I guess,"  _ Fear. _  "But there's a bunch I haven't figured out yet. It's kind of just a huge jumble." 

Unknowingly, Morty mirrored Rick's position, leaning towards the other man and losing his anxious edge as Rick seemed to swallow his lie and move past it to continue their conversation elsewhere. "It's kinda neat. Like.. I dunno, a superpower or something." 

Morty smiled but the expression quickly melted from his features, becoming more neutral and slightly serious, "I have trouble reading people. I mean, I did. Before. It seems like kids at my school kinda just know how to do it. They recognize all these signals. Body language or whatever, but most of the time it was like a foreign language to me. Hard to grasp. I miss social cues a lot. It's hard for me to pick up subtle messaging. I hope that the ability will help, y'know, maybe make me screw up less when you're trying to give me instructions or when Summer is trying to tell me to get out without actually telling me."

"Every account of vampires says something different, M-morty, did you know? It's fucking frustrating. One of the most common things to read is that vampires are telepathic, but scents, that's.." Rick's eyes were filled with avarice again, looking at Morty like he looked at a particularly complicated project. 

"Once you get a hang of it I'm sure you'll do just fine, Morty." Rick said, instead of finishing his sentence, and tucked away his nerves. There was nothing to be done about what Morty had.. smelled from him, and if the vampire was uncomfortable around him and wouldn't tell him there was nothing he could do about that either except act natural. Which was fairly easy to do right now, with this new, fascinating tidbit of information as a distraction. 

"Can you pick me out from everything else around us? Here, what am I feeling." 

Rick extended his hand across the table toward Morty, wrist up and hand hanging loose, elbow still resting on the table. Then he focused on the memory of his first time his ship broke out of Earth's atmosphere, the wonder and awe and the high of success he got from looking down at the Earth from the emptiness of space.

Morty couldn't bring himself to tell Rick that he had his senses directed towards the older man almost constantly. He couldn’t find it in him to admit that Rick's emotions were practically a beacon to him, something to gravitate towards and easily the strongest scent in the room, beneath his blood of course and he certainly didn’t have the courage to tell the scientist that that he could probably single handedly pick Rick out in a room blindfolded and jam packed with humans. He wanted to say that in some ways, wanted to let Rick know just how in tune he was with the genius’ emotions and how badly he wanted to always know how Rick was feeling but he didn’t and the teen tried not to let that desire show on his face. Instead the brunet leaned forward and inhaled slow and deep, allowing himself to bask in the flavored aroma that was Rick, his eyelids fluttering shut and his lips parting in a unconscious breath of pleasure. 

There were subtle emotions in there, things that'd been overcome by stronger, more current emotions but Morty could smell the spicy twang of fear. It was far less pungent than it'd been with the pig but it was still there, right below the surface. Morty quickly chalked that up to Rick's fear that he might lose control and moved on, inhaling once again, searching for something else. It was slow to come on, something he had to search for, but after a second he found it. A hint of lemon zest, maybe some kind of fruity smell but it had a bit of an edge to it, something sharp and attention drawing.  _ Happiness?  _ That didn't seem right. Maybe a bit, but that wasn't the main course. Pleasure didn't fit either, and he didn't think Rick would choose that emotion to begin with so he thought hard, trying to take a guess based on what kind of man Rick was and what sorts of emotions he would find positive before deciding to admit that he wasn't quite sure. 

"Oh jeez, Rick. I mean, I'm pretty used to your smell so it's easy to pick out," Only a partial lie, "But whatever you're feeling smells good. Kinda fresh. Like citrus and fruit. Pride maybe?"

"Probably some of that in there. Also, wonder. I was remembering the first time I saw Earth from space." Rick said, feeling the wonder sharpen to hear Morty pick apart the smell of his feelings. It was mesmerising to watch Morty scent the air, to inhale Rick's essence, lips parted, eyes shut, focused entirely on him. 

Rick reigned that thought in quickly, twisting it back to academic interest. Morty had his finger on the pulse of Rick's emotions right now, it wouldn't do to let them get out of control. "Try this one." Rick said, pulling up a different memory.

Morty swallowed down the saliva pooling in his mouth and, instead, focused on the sheer treat he was being given. 

These days, he tried not to focus on Rick as much as he wanted, tried to distance himself from scenting out the genius' emotions out of privacy, or maybe embarrassment over his feelings, but now he was being  _ asked _ to focus on the older man. Rick wanted his attention, wanted to see what he could do and Morty was more than happy to oblige, to preen and show off in front of his companion. 

Morty dipped his head a bit lower and took a deep breath, letting his senses expand and open up to his new abilities. 

Ignoring the ache of his fangs and the potent, exquisite scent of Rick's blood, Morty focused on the emotion beneath that and zeroed in on it. It smelled like heat. Spicy, but not in the way that fear did. It smelled like too much pepper, like strong ghost chillies and Sriracha and Morty could practically taste the heat of it against his tongue. 

"It smells really spicy, kinda like hot sauce. Anger maybe?"

"Mmm, that's in there, yeah. And disgust, protectiveness, possessiveness. You'll need to work on teasing out the nuances, but you've been basically right both times." Rick said, catching Morty's eye before he told him what he'd been remembering. "I'm thinking about what you told me earlier, about what your life was like before I got here." 

He held Morty's gaze until the waiter returned with their food, interrupting the charged moment. Then Rick looked away and casually took his arm back to make room for the food to be put down. He thanked the man, who’d be getting a big tip for not even blinking at the odd scene he'd interrupted, and took a slow, savouring sip of the 21 year old whiskey, letting his eyes slip closed and a smile curve his lips.

* * *

Feeling more than a little dazed, Morty sat back in his seat and watched the waiter set down their food with detached interest. For some reason it startled the brunet that Rick felt upset on his behalf. It wasn't a big deal really, his parents were busy people and he was just one kid. He turned out fine enough, maybe a little lonely, a bit on the awkward side, but it wasn't really that big of a deal. But Rick seemed to think it was. It made Morty smile a bit, made his insides do a little twist and the teen was pleased by the knowledge. 

Curious about what Rick had ordered for him, Morty glanced down at his plate and nearly did a dramatic double take. They'd served him meat. Raw meat. Raw meat mixed with bits of onion and parsley and topped with an egg yolk. 

The boy blinked owlishly, brows pulled together in slight confusion and opened his mouth to ask if  _ normal _ people actually ate this stuff but he stopped, closing his mouth with a shrug and he popped the yolk all over the top of the raw beef with his fork before scooping up a bite and popping it in his mouth. Morty chewed thoughtfully, and let out a pleased hum. It was a lot like the steak in the kitchen, fresh and flavorful, and had the consistency of hamburger. 

The stuff,  _ steak tartare? _ was yummy. It didn't make his stomach roll, didn't put him off, and it wasn't bland or soured by the egg, "Mmm, this is really good, Rick, thank you!"

"Glad it's working for you." Rick said, reaching over and rearranging a few of Morty's fries into a little dam with an empty space in the middle. 

"Try pouring some of the blood in there and dipping your chips, maybe it'll be enough to let you taste those too." Rick ate almost absentmindedly, but neatly, wiping his hands on his napkin after a few bites of his hamburger to take another sip of his drink. The food was delicious, but he was more interested in whether Morty would be able to enjoy his meal fully.

Morty felt a bit uncertain and more than a little self conscious as he pulled the water bottle from the front pocket of his hoodie and poured a bit of the orangish blood into the little crater Rick had created for him before screwing the cap back on and stuffing it away. As the teen looked back down at his plate, he was just grateful that the substance didn't really  _ look _ like blood. With the bright orangish color it could’ve easily passed for some sort of condiment. 

A bit hesitant at the idea of eating potatoes of all things, Morty pinched a single chip between his fingers and practically smothered it in the blood before steeling his nerves and stuffing it into his mouth. Surprisingly enough, the blood worked like a charm. It was delicious. The sea salt and the crispiness of the outer layer paired with the blood was extremely good and Morty hummed with a smile, dipping in another one, holding it out and very nearly asking Rick if he wanted to try before he realized the absurdity of that offer and blushed, retracting his offer and popping it into his mouth, chewing through the embarrassed slip up.

Rick's lip quirked up from behind his glass at the gesture that Morty stopped part way through. He brought his focus back to his own food after that and enjoyed his meal for a few minutes, now that the possibility of Morty getting sick from the food had passed, enjoying the comfortable silence punctuated by the happy little sounds Morty made as he ate. 

But after a little while he spoke up again, saying, "So I need to go get your parents tomorrow morning. How are you feeling about that, you don't want to come out to them yet, right?"

* * *

 

As Rick continued to take sips of his alcohol, Morty's nose wrinkled. The pleasure of his emotions and the insight they held was being drowned out, slowly suppressed and distorted beneath the growing presence of alcohol and Morty felt himself mourn for the loss. He liked being able to read Rick, to understand what was being said between the lines, but at least it wasn't the  _ flask. _ Earth liquor smelled like a dream compared to the rank, paint thinner scent that always seemed to be contained within the little metal container. 

When Rick made mention of his parents though, Morty's stomach dropped. He hadn't thought about them at all, had barely even thought about Summer to be honest and the idea of them coming home made Morty cringe internally. He'd have to start sleeping in his room, he'd have to look normal for them, act normal. They weren't like Rick, they'd probably freak out about his vampirism and his mom would fillet Rick if she ever found out just what’d happened to him in the locker room. 

Somewhat lost in his own mini panic attack, Morty didn't even really think about Rick's words and what he was implying, only taking them at surface value, "Gee, Rick, I don't really know if now’s really the time to tell them I'm bi. I mean, it might distract them a little but they might not appreciate it, Rick."

Rick lost it at Morty's words, throwing his head back and laughing unrestrainedly. Then he leaned back across the table toward Morty, arms crossed in front of him, and said, "Coming out of the coffin, Morty, not the closet. A-and if you did want to tell them that and they didn't _ appreciate _ it then fuck them. But I think I'm offended you thought I was asking you to do that. You should know I've got your back, Morty." 

Rick leaned back sharply, grabbing up his glass and tilting his head away, looking almost comically affronted, as he took a sip of whiskey to hide his grin.

Morty snorted at Rick's well placed vampire joke, cheeks flushing scarlet at his mistake, or rather, the undead equivalent of scarlet, turning a pale pink. But he wasn't truly embarrassed, not really, especially with how casually Rick had accepted the information and the older man's show of support. 

The sound of Rick's laughter rang through the restaurant, drawing attention and amused looks, but it echoed in the boy's ears, drawing a genuinely sunny smile out of him and he couldn't help but to laugh along, pleased that he could amuse Rick in such a way even if it was slightly at his own expense. "Thanks Rick. Glad you don't, y'know, think I'm weird or whatever." 

Morty munched on some of his food, scooping up bites of the tartare and happily stuffing his face with blood smothered chips before continuing, "I don't think they'd be very happy with the change, Rick. Y'know. They aren't like you. People fear what they don't understand, Rick, and I don't think they'd understand this at all."

"M-morty, I don't think you're weird at all. I said I’ve got your back and I mean it, even if you limit yourself to just men and women. Trust me, it's a big universe, kid." Rick smirked at him, leaning back in and starting to eat again as well. 

"And I agree, keeping it from them is a good idea for now. B-but you should start to consider that they might find out before you want them to. And you don't age, Morty, so even if they don't ever catch you drinking blood or doing your vamp hop or whatever you've still only got a few years before that becomes obvious. You're too young for them to miss it for long." Rick gave Morty a sympathetic look. He wished that he could protect Morty from anyone ever finding out if his grandson didn't want them to, but he wouldn't let Morty be unprepared for the possibility.

Morty rolled that thought around in his head, chewing thoughtfully. Rick was right. Maybe if the transformation would have happened when he was twenty-five or twenty-six he could have pushed it further, could have gone longer without them knowing due to the fact that he'd be fully grown and out of the house by then but the truth of the matter was that he was only 18. And,  _ technically _ , by his parents records, not counting the time he went into the battery with Rick for a handful of months or when they froze time, or all the  _ other _ adventures he went on with Rick where they ended up in a strange time warp situation, he was only about sixteen.  _ Maybe _ seventeen. His shoulders still hadn't widened all the way, his voice barely touching the range of maturity. 

They would definitely notice. 

Looking back up at Rick, the teen frowned, his voice soft, a bit insecure, "What if they hate me, Rick?" Morty looked down at the table cloth, suddenly feeling incredibly interested in it once again, gently toying with his silverware. 

Rick reached across the table and stilled Morty's hand, covering it with his own and meeting his eyes, "I can't imagine them ever hating you, Morty. And if they're scared at first I'll just convince them they're wrong. You have stunning control over yourself, Morty, you're not dangerous if you don't want to be, and you're not a different person. Being a vampire hasn't changed who you are inside, it's just made you m-more. You're stronger, faster, you can read people better already, and we're going to keep working on that. You're more comfortable with yourself now than you've ever been. They'd be idiots not to see that." 

Rick let go of Morty's hand after he'd finished speaking, looking away slightly as he picked up his napkin and fastidiously wiped his mouth before settling back in his chair and meeting Morty's eyes again once he'd given the vampire time for his words to sink in.

 

* * *

 

Rick's hand was warm against his chilled skin, rough with callouses and age, but steady and sure. It felt nice, reassuring and, to Morty, it was like an anchor, reminding him that no matter what, he had Rick. Rick knew who he was, supported him, helped him thrive. Rick would make things better, he always did. But the words that came with that physical touch soothed something far more internal that the brunet hadn't even realized was hurting, putting to rest a fear that he hadn’t even known existed. Within the back of his mind Morty could see now that he was afraid, afraid that he might’ve become someone, or  _ something  _ else, that vampirism changed more than just his body, that it might’ve changed his mind without him even noticing. Hearing that Rick thought otherwise was like a weight being lifted from his chest and Morty considered the fact that, perhaps, he'd been more worried about it than he realized. Consciously or not. 

Put at ease, Morty smiled across the table at Rick, a tiny bit disappointed when the older man pulled his hand back but he didn't vocalize that, "Thanks Rick. I'm glad you, y'know, believe in me and stuff. Hopefully they will to." 

Feeling more relaxed, Morty slumped against the back of his chair with a content sigh, eating his food with a casualness he hadn't felt before. Keen eyes looked absent-mindedly around the restaurant, taking in the details, ghosting over the faces of the patrons but, to his surprise, Morty realized that some of the people around them were glancing subtly towards where he was sitting with Rick. A frown pulled at his lips. Maybe they recognized a predator amongst the flock, something that didn't belong and Morty was about to make mention of it when a realization struck him. They weren't looking at him, they were looking at  _ Rick _ and the majority of them were  _ women _ .

Rick was leaned back in his seat, finished with his meal and lounging with one arm resting over the back of chair, drink in hand. 

"I-if our family gets to be too much for you we can always go on an adventure, Morty. They get on my nerves all the time anyway." He swirled his drink casually before draining the last of it with a heavy lidded, content smile. 

"I've got an idea for dessert, Morty. I meant it when I said milkshakes after. I brought along some of that chocolate sauce we made and I bet if we mix it into a milkshake you'll be able to have that too."

Morty wanted to agree, wanted to say that the family was annoying more often than not and that he was grateful for their adventures and the distance they brought. He wanted to share his excitement over the prospect of milkshakes, to share his eagerness over the idea of being able to slurp down something made out of dairy without gagging on it but, to Morty's dismay, he  _ couldn't. _ Every scrap of his attention was focused on the people glancing over at Rick, the way their eyes seemed to linger in a show of darkening appreciation, the faintest flush of their cheeks, a few giggles amongst friends. He could feel it against his flesh, like a low hum of energy, almost like static as their eyes wandered over the form of the relaxed scientist across from him. 

Morty felt himself tense, his lips pulling back a bit, exposing the tips of his canines, his fangs accentuated by the flat bottoms of blunt human teeth in between them and the vampire wanted to hiss, wanted to snarl and claim Rick so publicly that nobody would ever again covet what belonged to him. Instinct reigned supreme, clouding the brunet’s judgement and his frame of mind as he delved into the idea. 

He wanted to feast on Rick, to line his throat with bitemarks, wanted Rick to eagerly submit before the eyes of everyone who even dared look at him with a single scrap of interest. He wanted to growl and snarl, to hear Rick mewl and plead for his bites, for the pain of his teeth as Morty drank from him over and over and then the immortal wanted to slaughter every last human in the building, to bathe in their blood as he asserted his dominance, his right as a creature above them on the food chain. Because only he should ever bare witness to Rick in such a way, only  _ he _ should hear the symphonic melody of Rick's litany of moans and whimpers as he begged to be bitten again and again and anybody who was fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to hear them had to be silenced. Those sounds were for Morty and Morty alone and with every whisper, every heated glance, every inviting smile, Morty could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into possessive, primal rage. 

He could feel the black of his eyes expanding, engulfing the white and the color of his irises, leaving nothing but pitch black in their wake and, in his bloodlust, Morty could  _ see _ their hearts beating. He could see the throb of life around every human in the room, like a halo of soft, muted radiance, and in that moment he wanted to douse the lights. He wanted to leave the room completely devoid of human life, to leave it black and in utter ruins after the bold expression of his rage, his anger, and then he wanted to take Rick. Right in the center. In the midst of the blood and the gore and the fury, he wanted to hear the shrill cries of his mate as he sunk pearly canines directly into the other man’s throat as he claimed his territory without dispute.

 

* * *

 

Rick tensed in his seat as Morty's eyes darted around the room and then turned to burn into him, lip curling away from his fangs. He looked around too, sitting up and putting his glass down slowly, looking for the danger, for whatever had set Morty off like this. 

"Morty..? What's wrong, buddy? Do you want to go?" He said, keeping his voice low and calm with an effort. 

But Morty didn't answer, and when his eyes went black, sclera and all, Rick's worry kicked into high gear. Even when Morty had first risen he'd never seemed so feral. The boy looked like he was moments away from losing it, and for the first time since the vampire had woken, when he hadn't yet known what to expect, Rick was worried that Morty would succumb to the more vicious side of his nature. 

But even now he didn't believe his grandson would hurt him; he didn't even think twice before leaning across the table and grabbing onto one of Morty's hands again, feeling the wiry tension as the vampire's nails dug into the table, seemingly unconsciously, and just curling his own hand around all of that. 

"Morty!" He said, low and fervent, desperate for Morty to focus on him, to pull himself out of whatever had happened to throw him into this spiral. 

_ What the fuck had gone wrong? _

 

* * *

 

Morty's attention snapped to Rick as the elder spoke to him in that low tone, like he was trying to coax a wild and untamable beast and the furious creature bared his fangs at the first touch of skin against skin. Not even really aware of what was happening, Morty remained submerged in the darkness of his own thoughts but when Rick said his name in that urgent tone full of worry the vampire snapped from the primal instincts driving him to attack. 

Morty took in the brilliant halo around Rick, the proof of his life force and it felt as though his lungs would collapse under the vacuum of pressure. The glow was  _ so bright, _ so healthy and attention drawing, so strong. It called for Morty like a siren in the night and the teen was finally able to think clearly, panic rising within. He'd almost slaughtered an entire restaurant, killed dozens of people simply for looking at Rick and the teen felt sick, broken in a way he couldn't explain. 

Somewhere along the way, between the laughter and the jokes, the gentle nature he'd been shown over the past few days and the exposure of Rick's more private memories, Morty had gotten it in his head that Rick belonged to him, that the vampire  _ owned _ him and anybody else was a threat. One that he would kill should they approach the man he'd claimed as his own. 

Panic rose within the brunet, and suddenly he desperately needed to get away. He was losing control, over his emotions and his actions and Rick was going to  _ see _ . He was going to know and it was going to ruin everything. Morty jerked his hand away from Rick, looking up with tears pooling in his demonic gaze and he whispered out a broken apology before grabbing the bright green stone around his neck and crushing the bead with ease between his fingers, gasping as a portal sucked him up and deposited him within the harsh and unforgiving embrace of metal bars. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~! We're back! 
> 
> Sqk and I have both been a bit overwhelmed with a lot of new changes in both of our lives and trying to find a balance between work and a social life and adulting (Shudder) and making time to still edit and write and do all of that and we really appreciate your patience! I know it's been a little while but we promise the story is more than worth it. We really appreciate all your support. You guys have been amazing and your comments and kudos just push us that much more to really make this story the best that it can be for you guys. We love you all and we hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> With all the love in our hearts,  
> Clair & Sqk

Rick could tell the instant Morty came back to himself, and the misery and fear that filled his grandson tore at him even as his fear that Morty would lose it in the middle of the restaurant drained away. He wasn't surprised when Morty pulled away from him and broke his necklace, vanishing in a swirl of tears and apologies and brilliant green light, but he was acutely worried, threaded through with aching pride at how Morty had handled himself. He needed to know what had gone wrong though, needed to be there. 

Rick portaled into the basement without a second thought, rushing over to the bars of the cage he’d never wanted to see his grandson in and grabbing onto them as he sank to his knees to try and get closer to Morty, who was slumped on the ground in the little cell. 

"Morty, Morty! Wh-what happened? What's wrong?" 

Morty didn't answer him, and Rick pulled himself to his feet and started toward the panel that would lower the bars of the cage, desperate to get closer to his grandson and make sure he was okay. 

"I-I'm coming in there." He said, voice tight and strained.

 

* * *

Morty backed himself into the corner of the cage, his body wracked with dry and silent sobs and the vampire could feel his heart clench when he heard the unmistakable sound of Rick portalling in. It was immediate, mere seconds after Morty had arrived and the knowledge that Rick was so worried left him feeling even more emotionally exposed. He tried to ignore Rick, to give himself time to get his primal needs under control but then Rick was approaching and threatening to come in and Morty's head jerked up in alarm.

"NO!" The teen flew from where he was crouched in the corner to the bars in front of Rick, grabbing them tightly in his fists as he looked up at Rick with wild desperation, his gaze alight with complete and utter panic, "Please, Rick, don't! Y-y-you.. You can't come in, I.. I might.. "  _ I might do something to you that will ruin our relationship forever. _

The teen's legs trembled, buckling and sending him down to his knees in front of Rick with a choked sound. "I can't -- and they -- and I just couldn't -- and you were there and it -- I almost.. " 

The boy's words were broken, not making any sense and he couldn't control it. His eyes still looked ugly, black and utterly inhuman and he tried to swallow his sobs, forcing them down but he couldn't, "Please don't make me say it, Rick. Please don't.."  _ Please don't make me tell you what a freak I am. Please don't make me alienate you. Please don't make me bare this shame. _ "I'm just s-sorry. I'm so so so so sorry that I-I-I ruined our lunch. I didn't mean it, Rick, I didn't mean to lose control and I'm just sorry." 

Morty slumped with defeat, all the fight leaving his muscles, his fingers loose around the bars as he stared down at the concrete floor. 

"I'll do better, I promise. I won't let you down just.. Just talk to me, Rick." The teen looked up at the scientist with pitch black eyes, his humanity swallowed by the unmistakable darkness of the Damned, tears dripping down the swell of his cheeks as he begged, "Please make this go away. Just talk to me. Please Rick."

Rick hated seeing Morty caged, but if it made his grandson feel safer then he wouldn't take that from him. He knelt back down, just outside of Morty's reach, doing so more to placate the boy than because he believed, even for an instant, that Morty would lose control again. 

"I'm right here, Morty. I'm not going anywhere. Lunch was wonderful, much more successful than breakfast. A-at least you were polite enough to wait until we'd finished to freak out. I always knew you had more self control than I did." Rick smiled and inched closer, watching for Morty's reaction as he kept up a litany of words to soothe the distraught vampire. 

"You didn't let me down, Morty. You did so well. I thought for a second there that you'd need me to get you out, but all you needed was a little help and you got yourself to safety. I'm proud of you."

Morty leaned against the bars closest to Rick, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to swallow it all down. He didn't want to see the way Rick's eyes brimmed with concern and unparalleled worry. He didn't want to see how much the older man cared for him when he was imagining violating the nature of their relationship with his own twisted desires. Morty turned to the side a bit and drew his knees to his chest, leaning heavily against the cool metal bars, feeling them press against his side and the unnaturally chilled flesh of his cheek, strong and sturdy. He felt sick, disgusted by the poisonous feelings towards Rick that'd started to grow, unchecked, within the darker areas of his heart, threatening to ruin the one good thing he had in his life. The one positive relationship that allowed him to flourish and be  _ normal. _

Rick was proud of him.  _ But he shouldn't be. _

If Rick knew what'd caused the attack to begin with, he'd be anything but proud and that knowledge struck a chord, the echo resounding through his entire frame like a gong. Even now though, when his thoughts were a mess and he couldn't figure it out, Rick was there. And somehow his presence was soothing, anchoring Morty back into reality despite being the center of the vampire's internal struggle. 

Somehow, Rick was both rain and his sunlight. 

The teen lifted his head and looked at his grandpa, "I'm still sorry."  _ I'm sorry for making everything an emotional struggle. _

Rick's eyes flickered over Morty's slumped, guilty figure and his brow creased. Morty looked so broken, so miserable, and Rick couldn't stand being even as far away from the boy as he was. Rick crawled closer until his knees touched the cage and reached out, wrapping his hand around Morty's where it was still clinging to the bars. 

"Morty.." He whispered, letting his forehead, ever so slowly, rest against his grandson's temple and closing his eyes.

_ I can't.. and they.. and you were there.. and I almost.. _

Rick considered Morty's words, rolling them over in his mind.

_ Please don't make me say it.. _

And decided to let it lie. 

Morty seemed more than just guilty, he seemed afraid to tell him about it. And with Rick's own terrible secret eating away at his heart he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on in regards to keeping terrible secrets. The most important thing was to make sure Morty was all right, and to be there for him. 

"Whatever you need, Morty, I'll give to you. I forgive you. Everything will be okay."

 

* * *

 

It felt like hours that they sat there, kneeled on the cold ground, vaguely warmed by the other and Morty couldn't remember the last time he was so tired. Even his vampire strength felt tapped out, every muscle in his body aching and slow. But, with no small amount of effort, the brunet lifted his head, and looked towards Rick with a heavy heart. The concrete must have been killing his knees and the hunched position that he'd taken to be closer to the little vampire probably wasn't doing his back any favors either. But the older man was there, waiting patiently for him and Morty felt the last of his freak out melt away, the darkness receding deep into the hidden corners of the immortal's brain. 

"Rick." His voice came out like a croak, broken and cracked by the desert of his throat, "Will you let me out please."

Rick nodded silently and pushed himself to his feet, joints cracking audibly. He was over to the panel and back on one knee next to Morty before the bars had even lowered into the ground completely. Then he reached out and cupped his hand under Morty's chin, easing the boy’s face up so he could meet his eyes. 

"Y-you don't have to tell me what it was, but you do know what set you off, right?"

As soon as Rick cupped his face, Morty burrowed pathetically into his chest. He was ashamed, ashamed of how he felt about Rick, about how much he needed the older man and how he couldn't stay away. But Rick was safety. Security. Warmth. Rick was home and Morty needed him. Soul stripped, vulnerable and exposed, Morty nodded at Rick's question, not looking up or going into detail, grateful that the scientist wasn't pushing against his resolve.

Rick pulled Morty's head down tighter against his chest and pet his hand through the vampire’s curly hair, his other arm wrapped around Morty's shoulders to keep him close. 

"Do you think you'll be able to recognise it happening again more quickly? Get yourself safe, or ask me to do it, earlier?" He kept carding his fingers through Morty's hair as he spoke, voice soft and low. 

His grandson’s exhaustion was evident in every line of his body. He looked defeated, and Rick was already trying to think of how to mitigate that, how to build Morty's confidence back up. But he had a lapful of miserable teenage vampire to deal with first, so Rick kept petting, soothing Morty with his touch.

Morty trembled, squeezing his eyes shut and he whispered, "It won't happen again Rick." 

The vampire promised himself that. He would never let himself get like that again, he would never slip so far away from himself that he nearly harmed innocents because of his instincts. He wouldn't let it happen,  _ couldn't.  _

_ But what if you do? Rick isn't just going to believe your word that you won't lose control. He needs more. He needs to be able to trust you.  _

"I won't slip again.. I'll be quicker next time. Promise."

Rick hated to hear that tone of voice from his grandson, like he needed to feel guilty or make it up to him. 

"You don't  _ have _ to tell me that, M-morty. I don't expect it. You've done remarkably well so far, you know, and you did well just now too, but assuming you won't hit a few bumps is stupid. Is there anything I can do to make it easier if it happens again?" 

He laid his cheek against the top of Morty's head as he spoke, letting his eyes close and holding onto the boy, as if he could stop Morty from trembling if he just held him tighter.

The teen didn't have any answers, not really. He couldn't tell Rick what he needed, not without exposing the nature of his problem and cluing the older man into the depth of his depravity. Morty shook his head, the action just rubbing the crown against Rick's sternum and flattening his curls. He needed a sliver of space, a moment alone, away from Rick, to get everything under control. 

Morty swallowed, calming himself as he looked up into the worried features of his grandpa, stomach twisting sharply at the sheer amount of concern he saw in the older man's eyes. “Can we.. I mean.. can you.." Morty bit his lip, "Can we still have milkshakes, Rick? Would you.." 

_ Would you portal out and get them? Please? Will you let me put myself back together before I accidentally slip and tell you everything? _

"I really want one.."

Rick stared into Morty's eyes for a long moment before he looked away with a nod and let Morty go, arms moving slow like it pained him to do it. 

"Sure, buddy." He said, instead of any of the multitude of things he really wanted to say. 

Morty wanted space more than a milkshake. He wanted Rick to go away, but he wouldn’t call his grandson on it, and he’d give him that if it was all he could do. So Rick pushed himself to his feet and went to one of his workstations, digging through the scattered mess until he unearthed another of the green pendants and tossed it across the room to Morty with a soft, "here," before he dug through his pockets for his portal gun and, without another look backwards, portaled away.

 

* * *

It hurt to watch Rick go. It hurt to feel the older man pull away, regardless of the fact that he was doing what Morty wanted. The little vampire longed to call him back, to stop him and cling to him without a second thought, but he couldn't. Couldn't get himself back together in front of Rick.

When the scientist tossed him the necklace, Morty caught it with ease, smiling gratefully, "Thanks, Rick." The brunet slipped it over his head and tried to ignore the pang of separation that resounded through his heart the moment Rick portaled out. 

Making the most of his time, preparing to spend it wisely, Morty stood from his place on the floor and paced. He could still feel it, the tightness in his chest, the need to claim and own. It was just below his skin, waiting for an opportunity to break free and the vampire growled in his throat, breaking the silence. The territorial sound echoed around the bunker and only served to make the boy even more agitated but as a lump of white caught his attention he felt some of that edgy tension slip away unnoticed. 

Laying harmlessly at the foot of the ladder all rumpled up, burnt and stained, was Rick's labcoat. 

Still not quite sure of what he was doing, the teen approached, staring down at the fabric for a brief moment before reaching down and picking it up. The material was soft despite the obvious abuse, sturdy; it felt almost like a relic in his grasp, a piece of something that belonged, unquestionably, to Rick. The coat was a symbol, one Morty would relate to Rick until the day he died, if that day ever came, and before the teen could stop himself he was lifting the coat to his face and burying his nose in the collar, inhaling deeply. 

A tidal wave of scents washed over Morty's senses like a waterfall. He could smell the pungent odor of exhaustion and hard work. He could smell the saltiness of Rick's sweat and the bitter undertone from where it'd gone sour. He could smell everything, hints of emotions and the painfully human scents of Rick's body. But beneath that, below the overwhelming scent of his mentor, lingered the faintest whiff of something that belonged solely to  _ Morty. _ His scent was there, entwined with Rick's, marking the other man in a way that screamed ownership and Morty felt himself relax almost instantly. 

The need to possess was receding, leaving Morty able to breathe, calm and collected. 

Finally feeling a bit more in control, Morty tossed the coat onto the couch and quickly followed, laying his cheek on it, his nose intimately close to the source of all the smells along the collar and he curled up, closing his eyes and focusing on breathing slow and deep, reining himself in.

* * *

It didn't take long for Rick to get two milkshakes from the burger joint Morty had been thinking so fondly about earlier. He drank a bunch of Morty's shake once he got outside before dumping the chocolate-blood sauce into it and stirring it around absentmindedly as he sipped at his own, sitting at a park bench and stalling for time. 

' _ They.. _ ' What had Morty meant? Who were they? There had been no one that stood out to Rick as dangerous when he'd looked around the restaurant, and Morty had been afraid he'd bite him even once they were back in the basement. The way he'd refused to let Rick close told him that much. 

Rick went over and over the last few moments of lunch, but they'd been having a good time.. he couldn't think of anything he or anyone else had done to throw Morty into such a state. Maybe the vampire had been hiding how tempted he was by all of the people, pushing himself too far to make Rick happy. It hurt to think that, but it was the best idea he had. 

Rick sighed and shook his head. Then he stood up, shot a portal, and stepped out into the middle of the basement lab, giving up on worrying about it anymore for now. He came out next to the couch and found Morty laying on it with his face buried in the cushions. 

"Hey, Mort." Rick said, holding out the boy's milkshake as his eyes caught on a splash of white fabric under the vampire. 

_ Was that..? _ It was his labcoat. Morty was lying on his labcoat. He had his face buried in it, and Rick blinked down at the sight, trying to decide what to make of it.

Morty jerked up in startled surprise at Rick's voice, not realizing just how long he'd laid there, enveloped in the mixture of their scents, mind finally somewhat cleared and at peace. 

But that calm and that sense of peace was quickly being put to the test as the vampire looked up at Rick with a sense of panic and, unable to stop himself, he looked back down at the coat and then returned his gaze to Rick, stomach tight with fear, his inability to come up with a way to justify what he was doing only making him more put off. 

Unsure of what to do or how to respond, Morty reached up and took the milkshake, staring down at the reddened substance with a hot ball of lead burning in his gut, urging him to speak but keeping him silent, "Thanks, Rick." 

Desperate for a distraction, Morty took a big gulp of the milkshake, the taste barely registering through his uncertainty. He wanted to pull the coat out, to throw it aside or hide it or.. Do something with it but there wasn't anything to do, nowhere to hide, no excuse, so Morty said nothing, deciding that if Rick wanted to bring it up, he'd deal with it but that the vampire wouldn't start the conversation on his own.

 

* * *

 

Rick thought about scent as he stared down at Morty. About the way a certain smell would capture him, throw him into a memory, offer comfort. Rick thought about that, and about how detailed Morty could be in picking apart his emotions just from his scent, how powerful a sense smell must be for the vampire in order to be able to do that. 

Morty had been afraid to be close to him, hadn't trusted himself around Rick, but he'd needed comfort still. He'd allowed Rick to give that to him while he was most vulnerable before pulling away as soon as he could stand it. But by the way he was blushing and the way he'd had his nose absolutely buried in Rick's gross old labcoat, he'd obviously pulled away before he'd felt better. 

So Rick put his milkshake down on the small table beside the couch and then took Morty's away and did the same with it. Then he looked down at the boy for another moment before smiling slightly. 

He’d finally found something else he could do to help his grandson. 

Rick pulled off his labcoat and dropped it on the couch beside Morty, and then pulled off his sweater too. Next, he dragged the sweater over Morty's head unceremoniously, leaving his grandson’s arms stuck inside of it and his hair a mess when his head popped out. Without comment, Rick pulled his coat back on over his tanktop, grabbed up his milkshake and sat down on the couch next to his grandson, sucking on his straw and purposely ignoring the embarrassed vampire beside him.

 

* * *

 

He expected Rick to tease him, some gentle ribbing at the very least and the feelings amplified when the older man took his milkshake and set it on the table in front of him and just out of reach but then Rick was stripping out of his clothes and Morty was left staring at him in confused awe. He hadn't forgotten the way he felt last time he watched Rick take off his clothes and the vampire looked down in embarrassment, biting his lip a bit, too upset to question his grandfather but then.. _ then, _ Rick was dragging his favorite cyan sweater over Morty's head and trapping his limbs within it. 

Eyes wide, Morty slid his arms into the sleeves and simply sat there, stunned for the moment. It was warm against his skin, heated by the hot furnace of Rick's body and the material absolutely  _ reeked  _ of the older man's scent. Not just from current use, either. It didn't matter that the sweater was fairly clean, didn’t matter that he could smell hints of laundry detergent clinging to the fabric, because the threads were utterly  _ saturated _ with Rick's scent, merged with it from continued use and Morty couldn't stop the way he ducked his head and slid the strip of material around the neck up to the bridge of his nose, half of his face hidden by the bright blue cotton and he inhaled, letting his eyes slide shut as he slumped over against Rick's side, all thoughts of self loathing, anger or possession melting away into a sheer pool of content pleasure. 

He was surrounded by Rick, by his genius and his affection and the chemicals of his body and Morty felt himself go limp, tension draining from his muscles, realizing just how tired he was, despite only having woken up a handful of hours previous.

Rick smiled to himself when Morty slumped, boneless and happy, against him. Then he pulled his arm out from between them and reached over his grandson’s head to grab Morty's milkshake and press it into the boy's hands before resting his arm around Morty's shoulders. He gave his grandson’s arm a little pat as he relaxed into the couch as well, saying, "Good boy, now drink your milkshake," and then following his own advice.

The weight of Rick's arm around Morty’s shoulders was a welcome one, a tether to reality and what was worth keeping in his life, what was worth remaining in control for and Morty snuggled closer to the blue haired scientist with a murmur as Rick told him that he was good. Morty hummed and sucked lazily at the straw, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the deliciously sweet treat, more happy that Rick wasn't asking him to move than anything. The blood helped too, putting his mind further at ease and calming the frazzled ends of his nerves, making him feel a bit more human. 

_ So to speak. _

The vampire grinned at the thought, eager to drag himself from the dark corner that he'd been forced into by circumstances beyond his control.

 

* * *

 

Rick finished his shake well before Morty; he'd drank too much of it when he'd been stalling for time earlier. But he was enjoying the quiet moment too much to want to move away yet. Morty's increasingly sleepy weight against him and the calm atmosphere surrounding them was nice. So Rick reached over his grandson again, tightening his hold on the boy as he shifted to keep him where he was, and grabbed up the tablet he'd left on the table during their movie. 

He settled back, arm loose around Morty's shoulders once more, and worked, one-handed, on improving the formula of the sunscreen the vampire was currently using, letting Morty relax against him and enjoy his milkshake. 

Well, that and, hopefully, the comfort that his sweater was giving him. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the way Morty had just gone limp and happy, practically purring, when he’d given the vampire the garment. It made Rick feel smug and proud to know that his scent was a comfort to his grandson; the pleasure of that thought burned within him. 

It was such a tangible thing. 

He knew Morty loved him, knew he was special to the boy. Morty had told him often enough recently for it to be impossible to not know and he'd been working particularly hard to be a comfort to the newly turned vampire, to ease his transition into this new life as much as he could. But there was just something about watching Morty breathe him in and relax that  _ satisfied _ Rick. 

He looked away from his work, down to Morty, and smiled softly. His grandson had fallen asleep with his straw still in his mouth, fangs peeking over his lower lip. He looked fragile and small, all curled into Rick's side. The sweater was too big for him. The shoulder seams hung halfway down the teen's upper arms and the sleeves covered most of his hands. But Rick had seen the power in that deceptively small body, and the knowledge tempered the aching need to protect that the sight of Morty invoked in him. He'd do anything to protect his grandson, but knowing that Morty had the strength and speed necessary to defend himself now, far better than he had been able to before, was comforting. 

Plans for when Morty woke spun to life within him, but for now he was content to wait. Rick eased the drink away from Morty, soothing him with a soft voice as his grandson murmured a protest, and eased Morty down until his head rested in his lap. Then Rick turned back to his work, one-handed still, the other hand combing through Morty's hair.

 

* * *

 

Morty lingered in the veil between consciousness and sleep, vaguely aware but lost to the world around him. He could feel the heat of Rick's body and he could hear the tapping vibrations on his tablet but the teen was immersed in a deep and all consuming stillness, guided by relaxation, soothed by the safety he felt surrounded by. There was nothing to fear, nothing to pull him from the meditative state but then something changed. There was a subtle shift around him, something that went unnoticed for the most part but as the vampire breathed in, slow and steady, he could smell the alluring essence of his mate, just out of reach. 

The all but unconscious vampire followed the delicious scent without thought. It was ambrosia trapped behind the thin fragility of soft human flesh, and Morty leaned into it mindlessly. Softly parted lips nuzzled at the network of veins, hidden by paper thin skin stretched over strong bones and Morty's eyelids fluttered for a brief moment, pulling him from his subconscious long enough to the tiny brunet to bare his fangs a bit, almost lazily, as he hissed the word  _ "Mine." _

But the alertness didn't linger. In fact, it rapidly started to diminish as Morty burrowed in even closer, rolling over and curling into a partial ball, his forehead and most of his face pressed into something soft and warm, leaving him to mumble out half awake words of contentment before finally taking the plunge and allowing himself to be swallowed by the sea of unconsciousness.

* * *

It hadn't been long, but Rick had hit a breakthrough in reformulating the sunscreen. He'd stopped petting Morty's hair, focusing fully on his idea until he felt Morty start to breathe again. It was those deep breaths, the ones that made Rick feel like Morty was trying to taste him. 

He practically was, Rick thought, with how sensitive his sense of smell was, and wasn't that terribly intriguing. Rick looked down and saw that he'd let his hand slide down to rest against his thigh, his arm between Morty's chin and his shoulder, his hand right in front of Morty's face. And Morty seemed to have  _ noticed. _

Rick held his breath and didn't move, entranced by the way Morty arched closer until his lips were touching the delicate skin at the inside of his wrist. He felt it down to his bones as Morty parted his lips against his skin, brushing them just slightly back and forth. The vampire’s lips were soft and dry, his breath was hot and wet, and Rick knew that he should pull his hand away, knew that nothing was stopping him, but he didn't. And then Morty spoke, whispered almost, breathed the word as it escaped on another puff of air against his skin.

_ Mine. _

Rick stared down at his grandson as he smiled in sleepy satisfaction and rolled over, nuzzling in against his stomach and then mumbling his way into a deeper sleep. But Rick didn't move.  _ Of course, _ he thought, mind racing over the events of lunch, reconsidering what he'd decided was fraying control over the vampire's hunger for the other patrons. 

But no, Morty had been glaring around the room; he'd been furious. It was only Rick that he'd looked at hungrily, a look that Rick was becoming intimately familiar with. Rick smiled, slow and wicked, as he remembered the way Morty had reacted when he'd expressed interest in being bitten by another vampire, and compared the look Morty had leveled on him then to the vicious and, now that he thought about it, proprietary glare Morty had given first the restaurant and then him. 

It seemed his grandson was  _ much _ more than a little possessive, and not just of the idea of another vampire horning in on him. Someone must have come a bit too close or looked a bit too long and Morty, unused to the ferocity of his instincts to defend what he considered his territory, had lost control. 

The way that made him feel.. to remember Morty's covetous, hungry looks and the almost arrogant certainty in his voice when he'd said that word. 

_ Mine. _

It made a chill run down Rick's spine. His eyes slipped close as he relived the moment, his imagination running roughshod over his self-control to picture Morty blinking sleepy eyes up at him after saying it. 

_ Mine. _

He imagined the vampire opening his mouth wider, grinning and cockily arrogant in his certainty that Rick wanted it as he let fangs caress his wrist before sinking them in, sending a jolt of exquisite pain straight through Rick, the sensation feeling like it was connected directly to his-  _ ah.. no. _ He knew what was down that road, and they were okay right now. Until Morty's instincts had gotten the best of him they'd been having a wonderful time, and Rick had felt comfortable around Morty and close to him and free of guilt. 

And Rick wanted to keep that. 

He sighed and shook off the hungry need that had been building up in him. He'd been possessive and protective of Morty for years now, there was no need to let his thoughts get away from him just because Morty now felt the same way. He'd probably be like that with the rest of the family as well once he felt comfortable around them again. 

He understood why Morty had hid his reason for acting that way though, what with how embarrassed he'd been when Rick had acknowledged it before. If it happened again he'd need to bring it up, but for now he'd leave the boy alone. He had enough to deal with, and it would only get harder when they had to integrate with the family in the morning. Rick started petting Morty's hair again as he looked down at him, smile turning soft. 

"Greedy." He whispered, before turning back to his work.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I hope you've all had a wonderful holiday. Clair and I did, and now we're back with another chapter for you lovely people. Hope you enjoy it! Ooh, and thanks a bunch for all the comments and holiday wishes on the last one; you're all absolutely wonderful, and we really can't express how glad we are that you're enjoying our story.  
> <3 Sqk and Clair  
> P.S. Sorry if any subs got spammed with this chapter update. AO3 was a bit tetchy about insisting that this chapter be authored by just one of us, but we're even more stubborn than it is.

Hours felt like seconds and suddenly Morty was coming awake in a flurry of conscious thought. 

Waking up as a vampire, he discovered early on, was sometimes vastly different from waking as a human. The already thin line between sleep and conscientiousness seemed to become even thinner, and, to Morty, there was very little left of the early morning fog that usually stuck around, making him slow to recognize his surroundings or the events of the previous night. Sitting up with a sleepy yawn, Morty rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking tiredly and looking around for Rick, only to realize, with a unconstrained whimper, that the older man was gone. 

Not that he'd expected much less. Not really. 

Rick was a busy man, one prone to flights of fancy. Not to mention the fact that he was, normally, quite restless. The scientist was always doing something, always tinkering, always running around, inventing, causing trouble, and today, it seemed, was no different. Morty shook his head with a chuckle. He shouldn't have assumed Rick would just stay there and let the vampire sleep on him. Rick cared about him, quite a bit actually, but that was just a little too domestic. Even for his platonic fantasies. 

The vampire stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders and scratching his side as he lumbered over to the fridge, pulling it open and guzzling down an entire bag of blood before tossing the empty plastic in the sink. He felt tired and worn out still, something that honestly didn’t make any sense considering his unnatural ability to recover from, what should’ve been, all forms damage, fatigue included. But, never the less, Morty still felt run-down, even after the nap and Rick's emotional reassurance. 

Morty glanced down at the light blue sweater still hanging from his shoulders and suddenly started laughing. It hadn't been a dream. The thought turned Morty's soft smile into a grin and he giggled. Regardless of the events in the restaurant or the way he’d felt before, he was still in Rick’s sweater. He was wrapped up in the threads of his grandfather’s affection and that outweighed all the possible negatives attached to the memory. At least for now. 

Not really thinking about his surroundings or the potential dangers, Morty darted up the ladder and out of the hatch, determined to go find Rick and maybe even take another shower. Hopefully a better one this time around. 

The brunet bounced on his toes. He traipsed through the house like he owned it, arms swinging freely at his side, his muscles loose, and Morty smiled as he heard the varied ramblings of the TV in the other room. But, as the teen rounded the corner into the living room, fully expecting to find his mentor on the other side, he nearly choked when he came face-to-face with  _ Summer  _ instead.

"Morty? Oh my god, Morty!" Summer jumped up and spun to face him before crossing her arms and glaring at him in full big sister mode. 

"Where have you been? I thought grandpa Rick had, like, killed you or lost you or something! He was all weird and sad."

Morty nearly choked at Summer's statement, his eyes going wide at her worried stance and the cross of her arms. He quickly looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. 

"Yeah, I-I'm, y'know, alright. For -- for the most part. I got hurt but Rick fixed me up good as -- good as new." 

Morty felt his cheeks tinge pink. He hated lying to his sister, especially after all the talks they'd had, just the two of them, when nobody else was around to hear their innermost feelings. 

"How's uh, how's school?" Morty asked, shamelessly trying to shift the topic of conversation.

Summer gave Morty a hard look. 

"I'm letting you change the subject, you know. And only because that is a totally loaded question. I've been sneaking around looking over my shoulder, Morty! There's a  _ vampire _ at school, did you forget? And there was blood all over the locker room earlier this week. The rumour is that some girl like, had her period in there or something, but Coach Feratu vanished right around the same time. They're not saying anything but that's  _ so _ not a coincidence. I think the vampire killed him and they're, I don't know, covering it up or something." Summer said, eyes wide and leaning closer, then she paused and stared at her brother incredulously. 

"Oh my god, is that grandpa Rick's sweater? You look, like, twelve, Morty. What are you doing wearing that?"

* * *

The vampire’s attention jerked up from his bare feet to Summer's face when she mentioned the vampire and the blood in the locker room, a look of partial horror lining his mouth, making his eyes go wide.

_ They still don't know.  _

Morty suddenly had the insane urge to spill everything at the drop of a dime. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that  _ Coach Feratu  _ was the vampire and that  _ he _ was the one to get attacked. But the words wouldn't come. He couldn’t risk the chance that Summer would freak out or that she'd spill the beans to their parents, not when he’d already made the decision to keep quiet about it as long as possible. But that didn’t make his current position any easier. 

Struggling for something to say, Morty was once again startled by her words, a flash of confusion making his brows pull together before the teen realized what she said and  _ what it looked like. _

Morty squeaked and pulled at the hem of Rick's sweater, his cheeks darkening a shade. "M-m-my clothes they.." The teen wracked his brain before blurting in a rush, "They were ruined in a fabrical based explosion! Rick gave me his sweater and he said to cover up because nobody w-would wanna, y'know, see my -- my bony butt. Heh."

"A fabrical based explosion?" Summer laughed. 

"Are you sure it wasn't giant radioactive moths? You are  _ such  _ a bad liar, little brother." Then she leaned in closer, looking curious and sly. 

"What are you hiding? Where have you and Rick been all this time? You couldn't have been  _ that _ hurt. You're fine now, and grandpa Rick can fix anything, like, super fast. I won't tell mom and dad that you and Rick ditched out as soon as they left, so you could at least give me something."

A hot ball of lead settled in the pit of Morty's stomach at the idea of Summer mentioning his absence, in any way, shape, or form to their parents. He didn’t think she would, but the mere mention of it still made him incredibly uncomfortable. It would lead to questions he wasn't ready to answer and the teen desperately wished that Rick was there to help. Rick was always the better liar. Stories slipped past his teeth with all the ease of warm oil across glass. Nobody was ever the wiser when Rick lied and the teen wished he would have developed some of that skill during their adventures. 

But then Rick's voice was in his ear, guiding him, whispering pieces of previous advice like the serpent to Eve. 

_ The best lies always contain a little bit of truth, Morty. Makes them easier to remember. _

And suddenly Morty was talking, not really thinking about the lie, side stepping certain truths and walking the line between fiction and reality. "Rick had me in stasis in the hatch. I caught a virus that mutated my cells and I got blood all over my clothes. I'm okay though, Summer." 

The half-lie glided past his lips, smooth as butter, and Morty took a moment to bask in his own self pride before also tacking on, "Mom a-and dad don't really need to know though, Summer. Mom would probably have a -- a cow if she knew that I got hurt with Rick."

"You really were sick this whole time? Wow, okay. Yeah, no, I won't rat you out." Summer sat back down on the couch, slow and thoughtful. 

"I knew something had to be wrong, Morty. Grandpa Rick was, like.. he looked, like, really  _ old, _ you know? I've never seen him look so-" She said, before a low, familiar voice cut her off.

"Rude, Summer. I don't go around telling people you look bad in that yellow top of yours, do I?" Rick said as he strode into the room.

He knew exactly how terrible he'd looked when Morty had been dead, and it wasn't something he wanted the boy knowing about. 

"Mort, that was pathetic. You broke and told her all about your Captain America deep freeze in what, two seconds? Lame." Rick leaned up against the doorway between the living room and the front hall, hands tucked casually into his pockets, as he looked his grandkids over. 

Summer looked convinced, which was good. He gave Morty a half-smile and a nod when he looked over to the vampire. He'd been impressed with how well Morty had lied. Rick hadn't expected his grandson to be able to pull it off; the boy usually stuttered and made up something wild whenever he got put on the spot. 

* * *

Morty was relieved when Summer swallowed the lie. A round of applause rang out in his own head, but, as her amusement paved the way for something much more serious, the teen became absorbed. Listening to how terrible Rick looked while he was sick --  _ dead _ \-- struck something in Morty. It filled the vampire with a certain type of emotional warmth, something he couldn’t really place, but then Rick was there, interrupting, insulting Summer, and pulling the focus onto himself as he backed up the vampire's story. 

At Rick's mock scolding, Morty ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to keep the inner smile from his voice as he played along. "Y-yeah, I didn't mean to, Rick. B-but don't worry, Summer says she won't tell mom and dad and --" 

Morty lifted his head to look over at Rick, intending to continue, but suddenly a very familiar scent was assaulting his senses. There was the ambrosia of Rick's blood, like always, a twinge of alcohol, and some subtle emotions, which was about par for the course, but _ underneath… _ underneath there was something else. It was musky and fresh. Unlike his room, the addition couldn’t have been more than a few hours old. Rick reeked of pheromones and a sweet heat that made something desperate coil in Morty's stomach, threatening to choke him; because he could see it all over Rick's face, the droplets of water clinging to his skin from where he must’ve washed his face, the ghost of a blush on his cheeks, slightly larger pupils..

And the  _ smell. _

It smelled like pleasure and Rick and  _ sex _ all wrapped up in one delicious package and suddenly Morty was choking out, "I really need a shower! I-I-I feel pretty -- pretty gross after being sick for days. Goodnight Summer!" 

Like a coward, Morty fled. 

He nearly blew his cover, moving faster than any human had a right to, but Summer was facing the TV, back to the stairs, and Morty took complete advantage of that. Racing to the bathroom as though his life depended on it, Morty quickly locked himself inside and tried not to imagine Rick touching himself or..  _ Dracula forbid..  _ somebody else.

* * *

Rick stared after Morty, chagrined. 

Turning toward Summer and saying, "Your brother is a weird kid, Summer," got him a huffy sounding scoff and a glare as he left the room, probably because of his insult to her favourite shirt. But Rick wasn't really paying attention. 

He made his way to the garage and slowly sat down before he let himself think of the way Morty had fled the room, seemingly at the sight of him. But Rick knew better. He'd fled at the  _ smell _ of him. 

He laid his head on his folded arms, abruptly as turned on as he'd been before he'd left to release a bit of tension, away from Morty. The vampire had known instantly. And Rick could remember in stunning detail precisely what he'd done, what Morty had fled the room because of, “grossed out” and embarrassed.

Once Rick had finished planning out the sunscreen there hadn't been much to distract him, and his righteous resolve to not think about the way hearing that claim had made him feel had shredded like wet tissue paper. Rick knew that he needed to get away as soon as the weight of Morty's head on his lap had become a point of focus for him; he felt dirty just being in the same room as Morty while he was thinking about that, let alone while the boy was sleeping innocently away right there. 

He'd lifted his grandson's head up and slid out from under him, soothing the boy back to sleep with a gentle hand on his head when Morty had snuffled and frowned unhappily once he was gone, and then portaled away. Ostensibly, he'd told himself he was going to get the ingredients needed for the improved sunscreen formula. But the location he'd portaled to, one he'd visited for decades now whenever the mood struck him, almost always for exactly this purpose, gave lie to that excuse.

He could remember it perfectly.

* * *

A rocky cliff edge fell for what must be almost a half a vertical mile into a ravine dotted with twisting rivers and trees that looked more like shrubs at this distance. One of those rivers started just next to Rick, falling over the edge in a waterfall that put the Angel Falls to shame with a powerful rush of sound and spray. A spatter of stars winked brightly over the whole scene, the only clouds visible floating along dozens of feet below where he stood. 

Rick walked slowly to the very edge of the cliff and stared down breathlessly, feeling the sweet rush of adrenaline start to pound through his system. He leaned just a bit too far over the edge, staring down until vertigo threatened to topple him over the edge, before he sank down and sat, feet dangling into empty space, fingers tight on the rock below him. His heart was pounding roughly, his breath shallow and hot. He could feel himself sweating, feel the tremble in his arms from the rush of chemicals flooding through him, and he let it build for a long time before desperately unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. 

He was rock hard and leaking already, and the sweat on his palm mixed with that to make the first glide down his length easy and electrifying. He hunched over his slowly pumping hand, leaning into the empty air in front of him with his eyes wide open, and laughed breathlessly, the sound ripped away by the rush of water around him. 

Rick was well used to his fucked up yen for danger, but there wasn't a chance that he could lie to himself and say that the thought of Morty's fangs sinking past his skin and burying themselves deep into his flesh wasn't part of what was making his heart pound and his cock twitch in his shaky, rhythmically pumping grip. He'd chosen well, augmenting the fantasy with a very real sense of danger, and the sweet bite of adrenaline mixed with the endorphins flooding through him to make his vision blur with how good it was, how much depth it gave his fantasy. 

He had just enough self-control left to keep his thoughts focused on the bite, the fangs, the strength, the hunger of Morty's vampiric nature. If it was his grandson's fangs he imagined, well, he certainly couldn't think of that sonofabitch that had killed the boy, could he? So Morty's fangs were digging into him. 

Rick's other hand came up and he dug his nails sharply into his collarbone to feel both the sharp sting and for the giddy thrill of losing the last tether keeping him anchored to the rock below him. Another sweet spike of adrenaline and a dizzy rush made him lightheaded, but his imagination called it blood loss. 

Rick held his breath until his vision started to darken at the edges, not that long with the way he'd been panting desperately, and let himself imagine that Morty was taking too much, that he was so enraptured by Rick's blood that he wasn't thinking about anything but having more. But when he couldn't hold his breath for another moment, the thought that pushed him over the edge was the memory of Morty's sleepy voice as he laid claim to him. 

_ Mine. _

Rick twitched once, twice, and then convulsed and gasped for breath as he lost control and came into the void below him. His mind was empty. His mouth gaped open and his eyes were unfocused as he stared, unseeing, across the horizon for one long moment before he collapsed backwards and lay on the ground, arms spread wide and chest going like a bellows as he caught his breath around ragged edge giggles that were swiftly eaten up by the rush of sound around him. 

He'd laid there for longer than it had taken him to come, which, admittedly, wasn't very long, before dragging himself to the river and cleaning up thoroughly, or so he'd thought, in deference to Morty's keen sense of smell. Then he’d left to get the supplies he'd need, feeling and moving all languid and satisfied.

* * *

Rick chuckled into his folded arms and shook his head before sitting up enough to glare down at his lap. So much for  _ satisfied. _ His good intentions had gone straight out the window, and all because of something as simple as Morty dashing out of the room. But he gritted his teeth and tried, mostly unsuccessfully, not to think about it, setting up what he could for the sunscreen without having Morty around. Once the vampire came back he wanted to be able to get right to teaching him how to make it, after all. Rick was alternately loving and hating the idea that he couldn't do anything about how fucking hot he'd gotten again, not when the vampire would apparently know what he'd done. He wouldn't let Morty find out that his knowing turned him on, but he wasn't going to just not jerk it anymore because his grandson was a fucking prude. He'd need to get used to it, the nosy little shit, because Rick wasn't curbing himself to protect the boy's stupidly insistent ignorance. 

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the delicate, pink blush that spread across Morty's face when he was embarrassed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there lovely readers! Sqk and Clair here to offer you another chapter of this fabulous fic! It's been a while since we last posted, but thank you for all of your kudos and comments in the meantime, especially those of you who took the time to mention what you liked about the chapter or the story so far. We really appreciate it, and it's super motivating. To be honest, neither of us can really promise that we'll be updating as regularly as we were before, since real life has gotten rather busy and we both have a number of things going on, but, rest assured, this fic is still well and truly alive. We have no intention of just dropping it or anything like that. There's still lots to come. More than you guys know. For now, though, we hope that you enjoy this latest chapter and we hope that it'll tide you over until next time. 
> 
> Ta,  
> Sqk & Clair

Behind the safety of the bathroom door, Morty slumped against the wood, breathing heavy and trying not to think about Rick. Which, in Morty's case, was near impossible. As it turned out, he was always thinking about Rick these days. Morty let out a shaky laugh, running trembling fingers through his curls, blinking owlishly as he held his hand out and watched himself quiver with a racing heart.

"Shower. I just need a shower. That's all. It was just a surprise. Just caught me off guard."

Morty continued mumbling useless reassurances to himself while he stripped down. He was practically lying through his own teeth, trying not to think about it as he stepped into the tub and turned up the heat.

The first touch of hot water against his skin, accompanied by the coiling flurry of steam, left the little vampire gasping. It felt better than he remembered. It was certainly better than the other night when he flipped out over coming to terms with his life, as well as his death, and Morty was now a slave to the hot spray rather than his own emotions. Water poured down over him like a waterfall, plastering the teen's honey-brown curls to his scalp and turning them almost black, only to cascade down his back and swirl down the drain. He felt like he couldn't move. Morty couldn’t even bear to grab soap and actually wash himself with how good the water felt. But, as he glanced down and caught sight of his rapidly growing erection, the teen felt his heart nearly skip a beat before starting to flutter faster than ever.

If a shower felt good, if it felt utterly divine just to _stand_ under the hot water, he wondered how good it would feel to _come_ under that same spray.

Morty shivered and, suddenly, he was no longer held captive by the downpour of water. He was reaching around and squirting a dot of Summer's generic strawberry conditioner into his palm. He was imagining Jessica. Behind closed eyes, Morty pictured his crush’s face. He was visualizing the gorgeous cupid's bow of her lips slick with cherry flavored gloss. He envisioned her pretty smile, fantasizing about the sashay of her hips when she moved and the plump, roundness of her ass as she walked away. He imagined the airy way she said his name in all of his fantasies, picturing her naked, full and voluptuous, begging for him to fuck her.  

The first touch to his cock was electric. It left Morty gasping, leaning his forehead against the shower wall just out from under the hot water. Cooling pearls of liquid dripped from his hair and down over Morty’s face, trailing along his neck and shoulders. It was another added form of stimulation and, as the brunet quickly stroked his length, he found himself guided by the desperate need for instant gratification that plagued most teens. It felt better than ever. The slightly cool temperature of the conditioner he chose didn't bother Morty or put him off in the least and the _pleasure._ Morty bit his lip, trying not to make a sound. His nerves were sensitive, almost as though he'd never been touched before, like he hadn't done this exact same thing multiple times a day since he turned thirteen, and Morty couldn’t get over it. Everything was fresh. Everything was new, and the blissful friction offered by a tight, closed fist and the slickness of his hand, combined with the water pouring down his back, was almost too much to bear.

The vampire whimpered.

Sliding his fist up for a momentary pause, Morty slipped his thumb back and forth across the weeping tip of his cock at a faster speed than he'd ever been able to accomplish before, gasping softly behind the curtain and trying to keep it together. He was so close already, embarrassingly so considering that it'd only been about a minute. Regardless, Morty was already straining for the edge. He was rocking back and forth along the fence of climax as he panted, head bowed, staring down at his cock and trying to imagine Jessica sliding it in and out of her mouth.

But it wasn't doing the trick. It wasn't getting him off the way it normally did and Morty whined in frustration. Squeezing his eyes shut, the teen tried to force it, tightening his grip a bit and speeding up his strokes. But then... Then Morty was picturing something else entirely.

Suddenly Rick was kneeled down at his feet instead of Jessica. Rick was sitting on his heels, submissive in a way the vampire had never seen before, with those smirking lips wrapped around his length. Rick was sliding the teen’s cock in and out of his mouth, lapping at the sensitive spot just beneath the tip. He was tracing the thick vein along the bottom of Morty’s shaft, pressing his tongue flat and offering Morty as much friction as possible with all the skill Rick acquired throughout his years fucking his way across the galaxy.

_And then the scene was changing once more. Instead of being at his feet, Rick was pressed up against him from behind, fully clothed. Rick was completely in control as he reached around and wrapped his lengthy fingers around Morty's cock, stroking him hard and quick with that smug grin that always made him look years younger._

_"You're such a greedy thing aren't you?" Rick leaned forward, the heat of his breath right beside Morty's ear and whispered, "You're such a good boy, Morty, I'm proud of you."_

It was over in seconds after that. Morty was coming explosively with a cry, slamming the heel of his palm against the tiles so hard that they cracked as he rode out one of the highest crests of pleasure that he'd ever experienced, spending himself all over the shower wall with trembling legs. The afterglow, however, was short lived. At a moment’s notice Morty's eyes were snapping open, looking on in horror as he watched the proof of his shame drip down the wall and towards the drain. Morty looked down at his hand, covered in slick and ejaculate, and felt a wave of disgust.

_What is wrong with you?!_

Desperate to get rid of it, Morty rinsed his hands and splashed water on the wall, nearly sighing in relief when the evidence was gone. But that wasn't enough. Morty cranked the water even hotter, gritting his teeth as his nerves screamed in agony, but he didn't care. He needed to get clean. He needed to forget about the ghost of Rick's words in his ear and the lips around his cock.

So Morty scrubbed.

And scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed.

He scrubbed until he was bright red all over, forcibly cleaning his skin until it felt as like he’d taken a _Scotch-Brite_ to himself and removed the entire top layer of his skin. Morty lingered under the rapidly cooling stream of water and bit back a choked sound. He tried to adapt Rick's motto. He tried not think about it, but, as Morty glanced up at the cracked tile, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He'd have to ask Rick to replace it before anybody asked, and that wasn't going to do much in terms of helping him forget.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Morty switched the water off and climbed out of the shower on sore and shaky legs. He wrapped a fluffy towel around his body and made a move to stand in front of the mirror, his heart hammering painfully inside his chest as he stared at his own reflection.

"Rick is your grandpa.” Morty barked quietly at himself, his eyebrows pulled together in an expression of stern displeasure at his own actions. “He's old, and mean, and he knows how to turn you into soup you stupid sonofabitch!"

Morty gripped the counter tightly, careful not to break anything else as he glared into his own eyes.

"You need to get your fucking shit together. Get it all together, a-and put it in a backpack. Y'know? Or if you have to do something with it, then sell it at a shit store, or put it in a shit museum. But.. Get. Your. Shit. Together."

 

* * *

 

 

Rick was in a pissy mood. He’d resorted to a walk around the house to “double check the coating on the windows” in order to calm back down, and while it had done its job, he was exhausted and dragging as he worked on the first batch of vampire-strength sunscreen. He regretted not taking a nap when Morty had and he wasn't looking forward to picking up his daughter and her husband. Despite what he'd told the two of them, Rick didn't think anything short of a lobotomy was going to make them able to stand one another. In truth, he was more worried than he'd let on that they would do something to upset Morty, who was still rather on edge.

He glared down at the gently simmering liquid in the Erlenmeyer flask in front of him, doing a poor job of ignoring the main reason he was tense and irritable.

_Where the fuck was Morty, anyway? He was taking even longer than Summer did in the shower._

 

* * *

 

 

After a few more intense rounds of reflectional scolding, Morty felt a little more put together. He was just a teenager, a perfectly normal teenager that sometimes lost control and fantasized about things they shouldn't. And that was normal. Incredibly normal. _Totally normal._ Especially considering how he felt about Rick's blood.

The teen continued to reassure himself through thinly veiled lies as he slipped back into his clothes. Pointedly not looking at the shower, Morty exited stage right and fled the bathroom, quickly slipping back downstairs. It might have been a mistake to seek our Rick so soon after what'd just happened, but Morty knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, especially surrounded by the scents in his room. Plus, he could be himself with Rick. His entire self. Mostly.

Morty frowned but the gesture quickly morphed into a smile when he walked into the garage and found Rick hunched over a project.

Pleased with the sight, Morty raced over, practically appearing out of thin air at the older man's side.

"Heya, Rick. Whatcha doin'?"

Rick jumped and spun, eyes wide, as the boy he'd been thinking about materialized right behind him.

"F-fucking hell, Morty! I should put a bell on you. Shit," he swore, pushing a hand through his hair and shaking out the tension in his shoulders. He gave the vampire a hard stare, ready to snap at him if he was going to be weird about what had sent him fleeing to the bathroom, but Morty just seemed smug at having startled him. So, after a second, he said, "I'm working on a better version of your sunscreen. Want to help?"

The garage smelled like aloe vera. It was a soothing scent, something neutral that completely erased any reason for awkwardness or potentially sticky situations, and Morty couldn't have been more pleased. The vampire bounced on his toes at the offer to help. It wasn't often that Rick let him get his hands on anything, especially with his track record of destroying important pieces with his lack of knowledge.

"Yes! But umm.." Morty rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin directed towards Rick. "I accidentally broke a -- a tile in the bathroom. Can you, y'know, maybe fix it. When you have time, I mean."

Rick gave Morty an incredulous look and snickered, saying, "You're a menace! Y-yeah, Morty, sure. I'll do it later tonight. Remind me," with a shake of his head and an eye roll, before he turned back to what he was doing, gesturing for Morty to come closer.

"Okay, the instructions are here."

He tapped the screen of the tablet.

"I wrote them with you in mind. There's descriptions beside all the ingredients and equipment, along with where they can be found, so you can do this on your own once you get it down. Right now we're doing the recrystallization since this--" another tap on the screen, "needs to be as pure as we can get it."

Rick deftly set up another flask and a funnel on top of it, and then showed Morty how to fit the filter paper into the funnel, moving slow for his grandson's benefit.

"Don't let it make you nervous, M-morty, it's more nitpicky than cooking, but it's not that different," he said, demonstrating how to dissolve the compound in the solvent and filter the resulting solution.

Morty stood by Rick's side, watching with a somewhat subdued level of curiosity. It helped that Rick had written the notes with him in mind. Though somewhat insulting that he had to dumb it down a bit so he could understand, Morty was still grateful. He definitely would’ve been lost had Rick written it out the way he would’ve for himself.

Even so, Morty still felt lost by the terms Rick was using and what was actually happening.

Recrystallization seemed like a fairly self-explanatory process. Somehow, crystals were being formed and, afterward, they were more pure and refined than the original substance. That much was clear. Morty's brows pinched together as he got closer, looking at the substance and watching everything heat up before beginning to separate into layers, starting what he assumed was the crystallization process. Strangely enough, Morty felt that whatever was happening was far more complicated than cooking. He didn't say as much to Rick, of course, but Morty still thought it. He tried to keep the confusion from his face though, hoping Rick wouldn't accuse him of being too stupid for something as simple as sunscreen.

Biting his lip, Morty tried to re-read the notes, taking note of the ingredients and various liquids involved, trying to understand what was happening even though he wasn’t having much luck.

"So this is gonna protect me from the sun?" Morty finally asked, glancing up at Rick.

Rick bit back a sigh at Morty’s question, nodding as tolerantly as he could and nudging the vampire with his shoulder as he turned the heat down to a simmer to let the mixture cool slowly.

"Yeah, Morty. But the shit you have right now does that. What I’m making won’t be topical, like regular sunscreen, so that it won't rub off or wash away in water. That way you can use it on a schedule, and there won't be any accidents. It'll need testing and adjustments before you can try it, but I think it's a- a viable first attempt."

Rick gave up on showing Morty the recrystallization, handing him a bundle of aloe leaves instead and opening up a website with pictures on how to extract the gel from them, starting his grandson off on something much more basic.

Morty looked lost at first, staring at the long, spiky leaves. As he studied the pictures though, noticing how simple the process looked, his anxiety melted away. It was an easy job, one even Morty could understand and follow. The teen smiled and turned away from Rick, darting back into the house through the door and skidding to a halt in the kitchen in front of the sink. He was quick to rinse the leaves under the tap, making sure they were as clean as they could be, and then he was moving on from the sink. Flitting around the kitchen, Morty grabbed a sharp, little knife, a clean spoon, and an unused shot glass from the cupboard.

Morty snorted at the the sheer amount of glasses available to him before padding back to the garage and plopping down on the ground incredibly close to Rick.

Careful not to cut himself, the brunet glided the edge of the blade along the leaves, opening one of them up and separating it. As Morty pulled the leaves apart, he glanced back up at the picture and smiled. It looked like he hadn't screwed up yet and the thought made Morty’s mood brighten as he used the spoon to scrape the clear gel free of the leaves, tapping it out into the shot glass.

The process was an easy one. Cut, peel, scrape, tap, rinse and repeat. It was something Morty didn’t even have to think about doing. His fingers were practically mechanical in their process as Morty lost himself in his own mind, thoughts running rampant. Morty frowned. It was easy to collect the aloe. It was a simple process, one he could’ve easily looked up on Wikipedia and read all about, but the _science_ .. The science that would turn the substance into something _useful.._ that was far more complicated. Morty chanced a look up at Rick and watched the older man work. It looked so easy when Rick did it. The entire process looked no more difficult to understand and execute than pouring a glass of juice, but, to Morty, it could have been the equivalent of trying to perform brain surgery, blindfolded, with a intermittent tremor in one hand.

Morty glanced back at the leaves, his heart dropping a bit as he scraped the gel more forcefully, his emotion betrayed by the choppiness of his movements.

It felt like Rick was preparing him, making sure he could survive on his own if something happened to the older man. That's why he was being taught how to make sunscreen, because eventually Rick wouldn't be around to do it anymore. And wasn't that just a Sparta kick to the solar plexus?

Morty bit his lip once more. Forcing his emotions down, he promised himself that he wouldn't cry but, as the vampire glanced back up towards Rick and caught sight of the crystallizing substance, Morty was struck by the subject of transformation. The chemical in the solvent was becoming refined. It was changing shape and becoming something else entirely. It was becoming more, _better_ , and Morty was suddenly drawn right back to an idea that he hadn’t given thought to in what felt like months rather than days. Seated beside his mentor, Morty found himself entertaining the idea of Rick transforming into a vampire. He thought about Rick living forever, immortal and unchanging, able to make sunscreen forever, no matter how long they lived.

As was often the case, Morty's brain-to-mouth filter was apparently switched off and before he could think better of it, the brunet was blurting, "Have you ever considered being a vampire, Rick?"

Rick froze, staring at the crystals slowly forming in front of him without really seeing them at all.

_Had he ever considered being a vampire?_

Of course he had. It had been hard not to think about it when he'd been waiting for Morty to wake and reading everything he could about the lore. But from the way everything he'd read described it, vampirism eroded the victim's humanity. The fact that Morty was still basically his usual kind, sweet self was a fucking miracle. Morty was more likely a statistical anomaly than anything, and Rick couldn't assume he was the norm. In his more fanciful moods, once Morty had awoken, Rick had wondered if his grandson's innate goodness had simply been too much for his vampirism to taint.

But Rick wasn't a good man.

He shuddered to think what he would be like with even _less_ of a conscience. And Morty's apparent drive to possess and claim what he considered his was unnerving when Rick considered how he felt about the boy. The scientist hated to think that, if he were a vampire, he might care less about respecting the boundaries between he and his grandson. Rick might very well do something unforgivable, and though he'd lived with the guilt of a multitude of unforgivable acts for a long time, hurting Morty like that was one thing he never wanted to try and live with the guilt of.

"Like I'd want to be stuck in this creaky old body for eternity. No way, Morty." Rick said, giving voice to the only objection in his arsenal that he could tell his grandson about, keeping his eyes forward and not looking down at the boy as he did so.

"Oh."

The word was said with a sadness the vampire couldn't exactly keep hidden away, and Morty wilted inside, trying to focus back on his leaves. He could understand. Rick was old. He was a lot older than Morty and, were their positions reversed, Morty wasn't sure he'd be okay being trapped inside a body past its prime for eternity either. That didn’t stop it from hurting though.

For some reason, Morty hadn't assumed that Rick would reject the idea. It wasn’t like he’d spent days and days preparing himself to offer immortality to his grandpa but, in the spur of the moment, he certainly hadn’t expected Rick to say no. He'd hoped, in a fatally optimistic way, that he could cast the idea of Rick ever being gone from his mind for good with the spoken confirmation that his grandpa might let the little vampire share his forever. But Rick hadn't even considered it. Not really. Morty suddenly felt a striking hollowness, as if he were the one having gel scooped from within rather than the plant. The idea of Rick being gone, dead and buried, made the idea of immortality seem more like a curse than it ever had before. It didn’t matter to Morty that it’d take years. Watching those he loved age and die felt as though it was right around the corner, like it’d happen tomorrow or the next day rather than years down the line. Morty could imagine walking through the ages. He could see himself watching as civilizations rose and fell, lingering in the shadows, unable to make any impacts on humanity that he could be given credit for. It’d only been a few days and, already, the sheer idea of eternity, and what was waiting for him, sat more heavily on Morty’s shoulders than he’d originally anticipated. Forever was only a concept before. It was said with joking intent or in passing, without any real conceptualized understanding of what that meant, but, when Morty really thought about it, how long was forever _really?_

"Here, Rick."

The teen stood and handed Rick the aloe extract. He wanted to stick around, to gain any knowledge that he could, but, with his current train of thought, it was only painful. The subject of immortality was a hangnail in his brain. It was like that minute thought was one Morty couldn’t seem to get rid of. Every time he tried it just caught on something else, reminding him of something he hadn’t considered or weighed the pros for and suddenly the wound got that much bigger. It was something he didn’t want to think about and, since Rick was the current trigger, Morty decided to leave.

Without another word to his grandpa, Morty took a few steps and lifted the opening to the hatch. He dropped down into the subterranean space with ease and wandered into the kitchenette, hoping that a good blood bag would drive the unhappiness from his thoughts.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> Another long wait, another apology. Honestly, we don't even have a good reason this time. This chapter was written forever ago. Seriously. The thing is, we're our own beta readers, and I guess we'd both rather be writing more of this RP than going back and editing it into a fic. Editing is hard, and this chapter needed a fuck ton of it. But I mean, we definitely went into it all gung-ho. Clair edited like crazy and I did a bunch too, but I'm not kidding, it needed help. Like seriously, damn, I don't know what we were doing when we wrote it the first time. We were just having too much fun and making life difficult for our future selves, which, as my now future self, I regret. But your comments have been so sweet and encouraging and finally I just pestered Clair and bullied myself into buckling down and getting the last of it done and oh man.. we're both pretty pleased now that it's done. Anyway, we made sure this would be a long one for you all, and we both think it's a good one, so we hope you love it. Thank you so much for the support everyone. If you think your kudos and comments don't matter then think again. I don't think anything would stop Clair and us from writing the RP that makes up the backbone of this fic, but in terms of cleaning it up and making it presentable to the public you're all fueling it.  
> Sqk and Clair 
> 
> P.S. Clair here! I've had a couple people talk to me about being confused over the line breaks since they're usually used for scene changes and I just wanted to clear that up! The line breaks, in this fic, are generally used to signify a POV shift from Rick to Morty or vise versa. This fic is still a RP so there's bound to be some overlap while characters are responding and stuff like that ^-^ It also stands for the occasional scene change but, for the most part, its just POV shift or minor jump back in time to go over the same moment from a different perspective. Thanks a ton, you guys! Enjoy!

Rick groaned, frustrated, as Morty pouted his way down into the basement. But if he was being honest he was mostly annoyed with himself for being callous. So he turned off the heat on the Bunsen burner and set everything aside, tidying the area and ensuring nothing was going to explode while he was gone, and then went to follow Morty down the hatch with a vague sense of deja vu. He was making a habit of saying the wrong thing and forcing Morty into retreating into the lower level of the garage. It was a habit he didn’t enjoy recognising.

"Get back here, you. Vampirism has made you an angsty little bitch!"

He shouted the words down the hatch at Morty before climbing down the ladder, dropping to his feet and turning to find Morty with his head buried in the fridge.

"Eating your troubles away, Morty?" Rick joked, trying to make it sound like an apology, and stopping a few feet from the boy when he pulled his head out, looking hurt and grumpy.

"I'm not dead yet, Morty. And teaching you this isn't just because my fragile, mortal ass might vanish in a wisp of smoke. D-don't you remember your little battery tantrum? What if you run off to live in the woods again? I've gotta make sure my grandson can take care of himself, and like it or not you're high maintenance now, babe," he added, crossing his arms pointedly and raising a brow at Morty.

 

* * *

 

Morty grinned into the fridge, not allowing Rick to see it. The older man seemed to have a sixth sense about what to say to make him feel better, even when he was doing nothing more than simply teasing him. However, that didn’t stop Morty from pulling back from the fridge and glaring half-heartedly at the scientist when he claimed the vampire was eating his troubles away.

Which he was.

Morty snickered, his amusement turning into a clearly audible snort when Rick called himself fragile. "Y-yeah right, Rick. The day you become fragile is the day I can turn a black hole into a – into a sun without your supervision." Continuing to grin, Morty trotted over to Rick and gave him a nudge. "And I mean, _one of us_ in th-th-this relationship certainly has to be high maintenance, Rick."

The vampire chuckled, ignoring the lingering curl of heat in his stomach from hearing Rick call him babe before moving on. Despite knowing that he was treading into somewhat dangerous territory, Morty found himself unable to avoid pushing the ribbing a bit further, eager to get his mind away from the idea of Rick dying. He was well aware that they'd have to talk about it again some time in the future. Probably later, when the subject wasn't so raw, but, in the meantime, Morty was open to any and all distractions from the morbid topic.  

"I mean, damn Rick. Y-you're pretty easily pleased. Some metal scraps in a box, a couple wires, booze, _Funions,_ a few wafer cookies, a-a-and you're good to go."

Rick laughed and put his hands on his hips, "Y-yeah well, Grandpa's pretty fucking easy in general. Stay classy, Mort. I'm a bad role model."

He rolled his eyes with a grin, playing his reaction up, fully willing to put up with Morty's teasing if it meant his grandson was focusing on thinking of little digs to take at him rather than his mortality. He wanted to keep things light, and if that meant letting the sunscreen issue go for now then he could do that. He was just glad Morty was smiling again.

"Look, forget the sunscreen for now. No tree people until we get this down, but there's plenty of time as long as you use the commercial shit. Let's watch TV or something instead. Get me those wafer cookies you mentioned and I'll let you pick the show, I've done worse for less."

Morty burst out into a series of giggles at Rick’s little display, his heart less sad and weighed down by the prospect of death.

"Right, right. A _classy vampire._ Making me into a cliché already, Rick? Besides, if we're going with stereotypes, you might as well give me the good ones. I mean, really? Where are all those virgins I was promised in the Undead guidebook, Rick? Vampires always get virgins."

The teen flashed his grandpa a look of amusement and wrinkled his nose at Rick’s previous mention of the tree people from the Microverse only to light up like a string of Christmas lights when Rick moved on and said he could pick the show.

"Sold!” He said excitedly, smiling like a loon as he continued to talk. “Oh man, Rick. You better pray that I don't make us watch some stupid, teenage, vampire romance."

Morty snickered and darted up the ladder and out of the hatch, chuckling to himself as he rolled Rick's words around in his head, making his way into the kitchen with a series of fluid steps.

As Morty opened the cupboard though, searching through all the other stuff for the cookies Rick wanted, he felt a bolt of realism strike his heart. A mental image crossed his mind, one he hadn’t considered in the hatch when Rick called himself easy, where Rick was on his knees, whispering filthy promises in exchange for K-lax and booze. The mental image was only accentuated by the memory of Rick's rich, baritone laughter alongside that smug grin he favored and, in a mere second, Morty was squeezing his eyes shut and trying to drive the image out. Unfortunately for Morty, it didn’t disappear. It simply morphed into something else, shifting until he what he was picturing was a younger version of Rick at a club, flirting with anybody clever enough to come up with a decent enough pick up line and allowing a hoard of strangers to take him home and fuck him into the mattress.

"No!"

Morty slammed his palm down on the counter, wincing as he felt it crack beneath his strength.

_Fuck, now he's really gonna call me a menace._

Morty groaned and unconsciously stuffed a cookie in his mouth. He nearly choked at the dry, tasteless crumble before realizing, with another over-dramaticized groan, that he was a vampire and bloodless food tasted like shit. _Perfect._ At least it'd gotten his mind off Rick and whatever the man got up to in his free, non-science oriented time. For now he could stand to think of that as his silver lining.

The brunet shook his head with a sigh, trying not to think about it any more than he already had, and raced back to the hatch.

Cookies in hand, Morty was halfway down the ladder back into the hatch when he grinned and hurled the box towards Rick with a bit of extra strength and a rapidly called out, "Think fast!"

Rick was fast enough to get a hand up between him and the flying box of cookies, but not quite fast enough to catch it.

"I-if you broke my cookies the deal's off, bitch," he snarled playfully, snatching up his treat and laying across the couch obnoxiously, feet kicked up over one armrest and head resting on the other.

"Go on then, set everything up, slave."

Rick waved one hand in a lazy, imperious gesture, hamming it up to keep Morty smiling. He enjoyed seeing his grandson happy. And _alive._ He’d very nearly lost him; the memory was fresh enough that he could still hear the ragged, wet sound of Morty's laboured breathing when things were too quiet for too long. Morty had touched death far, _far_ too recently. He didn't need more of it in his life.

Rick took a shallow breath, closing his eyes for just a moment, and then forced those thoughts away.

His death was for _him_ to worry about and plan for. Morty had enough on his plate right now with just the family coming home and school on Monday; he could just imagine the little goody-goody insisting on going.

Morty sneered at the older man as Rick stretched out across the couch. The expression lacked any genuine venom but he jumped down all the same, intent on obeying Rick's wishes with a flourished little bow.

"Of course, your Highness. Forgive me for forgetting my place."

Morty snickered to himself, already having something in mind to really irritate and one up the scientist as he started to set up the projector. He was grateful that it was pretty much all up and ready for him from when they watched _Nosferatu_ the other day, saving him from the embarrassment of having to ask Rick for help.

It seemed strange. Their movie night seemed like it was so long ago – like so much had happened between then and the present – but Morty knew it was only a day. A handful of hours between then and now. It was a bit startling to think about just how much had changed between himself and Rick in that short span of time. Both good and bad. In those few hours, he'd probably learned more about Rick than the entire family combined, his mom excluded. It made the teen grin, his expression wide and excited as he scooped up the remote and shamelessly turned on _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ before walking over to the couch and plopping down right on Rick's stomach, leaning back against the couch with a content sigh.

"Ahh, much better! Wow Rick, thanks! This sure is comfy."

"Oof," Rick grunted as Morty dropped onto his stomach, and then said, in a breathless voice, "Looks like you forgot your place again," before reaching up and tickling along Morty's side until the boy squirmed and giggled. Then he wriggled to the back of the couch, pushing Morty while he was off-balance until he slid off of him and ended up stuck at the edge of the seat with Rick laying on the couch behind him, turned on his side and happily sprawled still.

"I win," he crowed with a grin, grabbing up his cookies and munching on one like a spoil of war.

Unable to do anything other than squirm in breathless abandon while Rick tickled him, Morty begrudgingly slid forward, trying to escape Rick's spidery fingers, feeling more than a little amused as Rick took back his rightful place among their couch that'd somehow been coined a throne.

"Shameless, Rick. You're shameless."

Morty stood and zipped over to the fridge. He grabbed a bag of blood and a straw before darting right back over, plopping down on the edge and leaning back against Rick's body. It felt a lot like he was protecting the vulnerable expanse of his mentor's belly with his own body and the thought made Morty sigh contently. Though, when he thought about just how sappy and unnecessary that thought was, he tried to convince himself that the pleasure he felt was merely from the rush of warm body heat against his lower back.

Determined not to think about it, Morty used the advantage his vampiric speed allowed him and snagged Rick's box of cookies right out of the older man’s hands. He stole a few just for good measure only to drop the package back in front of Rick with a grin. Seconds later he was tearing a hole in the plastic of his blood bag and and dunking his wafers in it more easily and self assured than an Oreo into milk.

Rick pointedly ignored Morty’s thievery, grabbing up another cookie without looking at his grandson and sighing contentedly as he settled in to watch the show, Morty's weight against his middle a comfort. Then, at the sight of the first vampire with a scrunched, bumpy forehead and vicious teeth, he laughed and pushed his hand up against Morty's own forehead, making sure to get his hand in the way of the boy's eyes as he said, "Shit, a-aren't you glad that isn't true, Morty? It'd ruin your pretty face." in a voice that was saccharine and sarcastic.

It was an odd realization for Rick to have, but he was happy right now. No, not just happy. Content. He had an experiment up in the garage that he'd left half-finished, but he had no desire to get up and continue it. He had a whole slew of worries that probably should be intruding on this quiet little bubble of time between them, but for the moment Morty's weight against his stomach seemed to be holding them at bay. It was strange. He was so rarely content to just stay on Earth unless he was elbows deep in a project to keep him busy, but he couldn't think of anything he'd rather be doing than laying here wasting the evening curled up with Morty, no one else around, nothing else to do.

Morty laughed and slapped Rick's hand away with no small amount of playfulness, smiling brightly down at him.

"I dunno, Rick. Might make me scarier. Who's gonna be scared of a scrawny teenager, Rick?" Morty stuffed his straw into the blood and took a long slurp before continuing, "Maybe if I had the vampire equivalent of a – of a pug face I'd instill some fear."

Morty giggled and scrunched up his face as well as he could, pulling his eyebrows together and wrinkling his nose, drawing up a grimace as he bared his fangs and awkwardly said, "What do you think, Rick? Scary enough?"

Rick snorted and shook his head.

"N-not even a little scary, Morty," he said, rather than letting himself say anything even remotely related to how adorable he looked.

"Although drinking that blood like a giant Capri Sun certainly isn't helping your case."

Rick was focused on Morty completely now, distracted from the show as he smiled indulgently up at him, pointing a cookie at the boy while he spoke.

Morty scoffed but didn’t disagree as he leaned forward and shamelessly bit off the end of Rick's cookie. He took a long slurp of blood moments later as he munched the cookie down, smacking his lips in a purposeful attempt to annoy Rick.

"Mmmmmm, wafers are always so much better they're stolen."

The vampire grinned and slid a little further back, squishing Rick a tiny bit more in his attempt to get more space before quickly slurping to the bottom of his blood bag, looking at it sadly when the straw came up empty.

"The saddest sound in the world Rick." He said, his tone laced with half-serious mourning.

The teen was about to laugh again when a thought crossed his mind that made his features twist with horror as he scrambled, looking desperately for the remote. "Oh Jeez, Rick! What time is it?!"

Rick growled and popped the remaining half of his cookie into his mouth after the little sneak snuck a bite, grumbling good-naturedly as Morty squished him and enjoying himself until Morty started to fuss, elbowing him in the stomach in his flailing haste.

"Ten after ten, Morty, what the fuck?" Rick said, crossing his arms protectively over his belly once he'd pulled his sleeve back on his collection of watches to check the time.

Morty let out a distressed little say-it-ain’t-so cry before successfully finding the remote. He nearly crushed the electronic wand in his grasp as he flicked through the channels at light speed, eyes glued to the screen before finally settling on BBC1.

David Attenborough's calm, soothing voice immediately filled the basement. His british narrative unraveled the vampire almost instantly as he talked about the secrets of the ocean depths far down below the surface where light from the sun could never hope to reach. Morty sighed in relief when he realized that he hadn't missed it. He'd nearly forgotten about the _Blue Ocean_ marathon but it seemed that he was just in time for his absolute favorite segment of the documented series – the one on deep ocean he'd seen no less than eight times.

Morty scooted back, snuggled up against Rick but no longer squishing the scientist in any way, and he pulled his knees up to his chest, watching on in near trembling excitement and holding his legs as he watched the creatures on screen, mentally able to recite almost every single fact word-for-word.

"Holy shit. You are such a f-fucking dork, Morty."

Rick laughed incredulously, curling his legs up against Morty's side, boxing him in on two sides and then easing his upper body closer as well, chin resting on his palm so he could watch the screen right-side up.

Then he gave Morty a little side-long look and said, "So.. tell me about that ugly fucker there, a hairy angler, was it?" with a secret little grin, hoping to provoke Morty into another fit of informative word vomit. It didn't look like it was going to be very difficult, not with the way the boy was practically vibrating in his seat.

Feeling safe within the cage of Rick's body, Morty leaned back against him with a happy little chuckle at the light teasing and Rick's more than accurate description of him. As it turned out, the other man wasn't far off the mark because, as soon as the question was out there in the open, Morty was off, his brain racing faster and faster than his mouth could keep up, his stutter falling to the wayside in favor of impassioned excitement.

"Actually, not a lot, Rick! They don't know that much about it, scientists I mean, because they weren't very privy to its existence for a really long time! We, well, _normal scientists ,_ know more about _space_ than they do the depths of the ocean!” Morty babbled excitedly, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watched the creature move through the artificially illuminated water on screen.

“But it the hairy angler is actually called _Caulophryne polynema._ It’s from the _Caulophrynidae_ family _.”_

Morty hummed, completely unbothered as he revealed one of his most well-hidden, intellectual secrets to Rick by spouting off accurately pronounced Latin nomenclature for the creatures on-screen as though that were something he’d always been able to do, watching with avid fascination as a tiny secondary fish appeared and latched onto the angler’s side, prompting another series of facts from Morty.

“Angler fish are actually pretty interesting as whole, Rick. I don’t know if you know this but, all the big, scary ones with the ridiculously big teeth? They're all females!”

Morty pointed to the screen where the tiny fish was still clinging to the female angler. “Male angler fish are actually super small and not really all that special at all. They just look like teenie, tiny fish you'd see around the reef but when they find a mate, they attach to her. Literally.”

Morty chuckled with amusement.

“Because there’s so few chances to mate down there, they just permanently burrow in and eventually start sharing her blood and nutrients and all that stuff. He's really just like... a fused corpse hanging off of her side, providing sperm until she either dies, or he falls off."

Morty continued to ramble until the bioluminescence appeared, his eyes going wide with wonder as he absent-mindedly said, "Did you know that bioluminescence isn't bound to the sea, Rick? It's really common in caves and other dark places. Any place without a regular source of light. It's.. beautiful."

_You're beautiful._ Rick thought, but didn't say. He just watched Morty as he chatted away instead, quietly enjoying the bright gleam in his eyes and the vicarious thrill of shared knowledge between them. He couldn't forget how breakable his grandson was, but Morty looked so alive when he babbled out his slew of facts, so excited. Confidence looked good on him, but it was obviously gossamer-thin and just as fragile, so when Rick spoke he very carefully didn't intrude on Morty's self-proclaimed area of expertise. 

"It's common outside of Earth too, M-morty. A lot of species that have adapted to living in space have it. A-and there's a particular race, actually, that you might find interesting. They're called the Lophii, and they're like your anglerfish. All female, and they cultivate and grow the males of their species like pets with selective breeding for desirable traits and fucking dog shows and things. Th-they don't have external sexual organs but they still have a sex drive so they have this really i-intense massage a-and oils to make your skin hypersensitive and– uh, well, nevermind that."

Rick chuckled and moved on, unembarrassed that a lot of his knowledge of other races tended to stray beyond the PG. He'd slept his way through a respectable number of weird and wonderful races, and if Morty didn't want to hear it he'd had a lot of practice selectively listening to him already.  

"You should watch for convergent evolution when we're on adventures though, M-morty. You'd be surprised at how many similarities there are." 

As Rick spoke he had been half-planning out a gift for his excitable little nerd of a grandson, and he couldn't wait to put his idea together. But he also didn't want to cut this moment short; that made tucking the idea away and smiling up at Morty instead surprisingly easy. He had hundreds of things he wanted to show Morty, thousands of sights and experiences that he'd grown used to but knew that Morty would absolutely love. And planning to search out a new facet of that, looking for interesting biology to catch his grandson's attention and imagination, was incredibly easy as well. 

Life was expansive with Morty in it. He could do this forever: plan adventures, take Morty out to experience something new and then come home and curl up on the couch with him to talk and laugh and enjoy one another's company. He wanted to. He longed for it.. and, for just a moment, he quietly let himself imagine allowing Morty to turn him without thinking about the resultant degradation of his already shaky conscience. 

It was nothing more than a fantasy, but it was tempting, and Rick couldn't allow himself think about it for long lest he forget what it would actually be like. Anyway, even if he let Morty turn him, he knew it couldn't be like that. The boy was young, and no matter how many things Rick showed him he knew that Morty would want to be his own man someday. 

He'd eventually chafe with Rick's presence in his life and leave, no matter what he said about turning him, and the unspoken _forever_ underlying those words. Rick had the experience to know himself and what he wanted, but Morty was just getting started. He couldn't let himself forget what his role was in their relationship. He was Morty's grandfather. It was his job was to make sure the younger man was ready to live his own life when the time came and, no matter how badly he did at most aspects of his relationship with Morty, that was one thing he couldn't let himself fuck up.

 

* * *

 

The entirety of Morty’s focus was on the TV, his train of thought absorbed to the brim by what was being said, but the moment Rick started talking about the Lophii and their similarities to angler fish, the teen's attention shifted. In that moment, he couldn't have cared less about the documentary and his complete focus was on Rick.

Morty grinned at the information, amused that so much of Rick's knowledge seemed to center around sexual practices. But that just added another layer of depth to the older man, one Morty didn't find shameful or weird in any way. Rick was a man not bound by social construct and, from the first time they'd gone adventuring, Morty knew that character trait extended to all areas of Rick's life. Including sex. And Morty, for his part, was in awe of that. Rick was a free spirit, one that did as he pleased, and though his grandpa was probably not somebody who should’ve been seen as a role model, Morty still viewed him as such. He strove to, eventually, be just as accepting as Rick and to be able to look past a planetary mindset without having to try.

"That's super cool, Rick. Do most lifeforms evolve from the sea?” He asked off-handedly. “Because it kinda seems that way."

Morty snuggled back into Rick's body, rolling the new information around in his head, wondering silently about other species and how similar they could be to life here on Earth. Not necessarily _human life,_ but just life in general.

Morty glanced back up at the screen, smiling as he caught sight of the Pompeii worms, and he tacked on conversationally, "Did you know that what they're doing, taking in sulfides for energy, is called chemosynthesis?”

The vampire expanded.

“It's a process that works a lot like photosynthesis but, since there's no light down there, they feed on chemicals coming out from under the Earth's crust instead of sunlight."

Morty glanced down at Rick with a soft smile. There was something about sharing his knowledge with Rick, something about proving that he wasn't brainless or shallow, that he had _depth_ and interests, that drove Morty. It was a quest, in some ways. A quest to show Rick that he was more than just a teen with a learning disability. It was also a reason to come out of his well constructed shell. He loved the way Rick looked at him when he said something interesting. He adored that flash of pride, that quirk of the brow that silently told Morty Rick was surprised or fascinated. It made him feel comfortable, more comfortable than he'd ever been around his family, and it made him want to strive for more. It made him want to _be_ more, to know more.

It made him strive to know enough that Rick would always look at him like that.

Rick had let his eyes drift closed, quietly listening to his grandson as he spoke. But he made an excited little sound and pushed himself up on one elbow at the word _chemosynthesis,_ eyes going wide. An unselfconscious smile spread across his face at his grandson's words, and he jittered in place, rushing to fill the silence as soon as Morty finished speaking.

"Oh, M-m-morty! I-I went to this planet once: Ilmatar. I-it's a-a world that's covered with ice, miles deep, Morty. A-and the Ilmatarans live under all that ice, where the pressure is so overwhelming that water can't freeze. Th-they're sort of like giant crayfish, Morty, and they farm the vents that pump out warm water from the planet's core and pipe it around farmland to grow algae. Morty, it was f-fucking fascinating, Morty. They've got one of the oldest cultures I've ever encountered but they've never left their planet, and it was only m-maybe a generation ago, from when I went, that they'd made contact– were contacted– that another species found them. They communicate through this wildly complex numerical morse code language, and m-mathematical concepts have these emotional ties to them. I-I-I can't think of sine and cosine waves without thinking that they're romantic anymore."

Rick had a wistful, happy grin on his face before he shook off the memory and flushed a little at how swept up he'd gotten.

"I should take you there someday,” he mumbled, looking away, “y-you'd love it."

Morty was swept up by the passion in Rick's voice, the excitement of his eyes and the unabashed curve of his mouth. He looked animated, as though there was nothing else he'd rather be doing than lazing about with his grandson and talking about ancient, prehistoric worlds submerged in water. It was then that Morty began to realize just how similar he was to the blue-haired genius laying behind him. They weren't so different, not really, and that made the brunet's chest feel tight with emotion.

Rick was, in Morty's not so humble opinion, exquisite. He was a beautiful creature cloaked in knowledge and an unimaginable darkness. He was good and evil, right and wrong, the epitome of humanity. He was the very best and worst of what their species had to offer, and the vampire couldn't help but to find that beautiful, as well as fascinating. Rick had the power to destroy entire worlds, entire _universes,_ and he had.. But he also sat and watched nature documentaries and expressed his love of the worlds he visited like a child trying to explain the beauty of winter morphing into spring.

Rick was a child at heart, Morty knew that. He refused to see him any other way, and as the older man continued on, talking about the way the Ilmatarans communicated and the romance of numerical language, Morty felt himself fall just a little bit deeper into the rabbit hole.

He wanted this forever. He wanted to remember this exact moment for as long as he lived. No matter what happened, no matter how things ended, he always wanted to remember Rick as he was in the current moment – happy and carefree, openly being just as much of a nerd as Morty himself. The teen could smell it, the genuine nature of the moment and the happiness it entailed. It was everything to him, everything he loved about Rick wrapped up into one extraordinary moment, and suddenly Morty couldn't keep himself away from the man behind him.

He needed Rick like he needed air, needed to show Rick that he was loved, always loved, and that his knowledge was appreciated.

Morty did a little backwards roll over Rick's body, ending up in the space behind the curve of the scientist's back with ease, and he immediately latched on to the older man from behind. Wrapping an arm around Rick's middle, Morty held him close. The vampire pressed his cheek to Rick's shoulder, staying away from the temptation of his neck, and he watched TV over his grandpa's shoulder for a minute before speaking quietly, conscious that he was super close to Rick's ear.

"You've got so much knowledge, Rick. It's amazing. When you talk about the things you've seen, it makes me want to fly into space and just explore forever. Y'know? I can't imagine anybody more clever than you, Rick. I'm glad you're around."

Rick felt himself flush harder as Morty squirmed over him and spooned up against his back, holding him tight. The position left Rick feeling vulnerable, but so safe at the same time, and cherished in a way he wasn't even remotely used to.

Being held was an act of trust.

And the way Morty had just done it, all certainty and presumption, made Rick go a little weak in the knees. He was busily cataloguing every little bit of the moment, from the way he could feel that Morty was smiling even though he couldn't see it to the way Morty's knees tucked in so perfectly behind his longer legs, snug against the back of his thighs, to the way Morty's hand rested against his ribs, shifting minutely with every breath he took, fingers burrowed just a bit between Rick's side and the couch cushion, that it surprised him when Morty spoke.

A shiver ran down his spine as the boy's breath caressed his ear. The words of praise that Morty lavished him with were another kind of comfort, one that puffed him up, full of satisfaction at the way Morty spoke about him, the awe in the boy's voice that he didn't try to hide. Rick almost purred with how happy he was, ego stroked and body snuggled up in Morty's arms, and he leaned his head back until he could catch Morty's eye out of the corner of his own and grin lazily up at him, all magnanimous acceptance and soft, half-closed, pleasured eyes.

"Mmm.. I do, it is, let's do that, there isn't and same to you," he said, letting his eyes close in smug contentment.

Morty giggled at Rick's response.

The words that fell from his lips were so typical, such a _Rick_ thing to say, and the brunet's smile widened. Half the time, Morty expected to be pushed away when he held Rick, whether it be hugs or full fledged snuggles. Part of the teen always expected Rick to rip himself away, for the older man to snarl and get defensive, but he didn't. Not with Morty, not so far at least, and it made the teen feel over the moon, like he could take on anything and win.

Pleased with the closeness and the emotions coming from Rick, pleased with the warmth and the way he felt like a tiny jet pack clinging to Rick's back, Morty smiled and rubbed his cheek along Rick's shoulder blade. Maybe it was wrong, maybe normal grandchildren didn't get this close to their grandparents, but Rick and Morty weren't normal. They never had been, and that knowledge left the teen more pleased than he should have been.

Morty gave his grandpa a tiny squeeze but then stilled as he felt the strong pulse of Rick's heart against his hand. He'd been close to it before, just because of where his arm fell when he snuggled up to the older man, but after feeling the faint edges of it, Morty wanted more. He let his palm side up just a bit, shaping around the curve of Rick's ribcage. His fingers stretched and splayed, trying to reach and absorb as much of the sound through his palm and Rick's clothes as he could, and Morty held his breath, feeling the slam of Rick's heart right below his hand. It was humbling, the idea of that one organ keeping Rick alive, pumping blood through his veins, fluttering when he was excited, slowing as he slept, and Morty was in awe of it. He was in awe of the simple biological makeup of his grandfather's organs. The sound was comforting, steady and rhythmic in a way the little vampire had never really considered, and he felt comforted by it.

But that didn’t mean Rick was comfortable with it.

The vampire quickly glanced up towards where Rick was laying with his eyes closed, not exactly sure that what he was doing was okay but unwilling to stop unless Rick said so.

Rick's attention was riveted to Morty's hand as it slid along his chest. The contact was intimate in a way he would have never risked with Morty. His grandson's touch was a brand along his flesh. It was a presumption that he couldn't afford to allow himself to take with the teen, but with Morty being the one to reach out Rick could let himself believe it was innocent, no matter what the zing along his nerves said.

It was easy to let himself be held, let Morty touch, and let himself not think too hard about the ache in his chest when Morty rested his hand over his heart.

"Do you miss it?" He asked, voice soft, feeling like he'd shatter the moment if he spoke any louder.

_Do you miss being human?_

Morty stilled at the underlying question below the surface, basking in the intimacy between them as he considered it in momentary silence.

There were certainly things Morty was sure he'd be bound to miss, things he hadn't discovered yet, things that would resound through him like a deep and echoing ache, but.. The teen stilled, laying his cheek against Rick's shoulder, inhaling softly, tasting the positive emotions from the man beside him. He would never have gotten as close to Rick as he had without becoming a vampire. Morty doubted very much that Rick would ever have allowed himself to be snuggled by his grandson. He doubted he'd ever have learned to make pancakes or extract Aloe Vera or hold Rick's heartbeat in his hand had he not become a vampire. It startled him, that being close to Rick was worth losing humanity, but it was, and part of him wanted Rick to know that.

But just because he felt that way, didn't mean Rick would feel anything close to the same.

Uncertain, and not exactly sure how much to reveal, lest he anger the older man or destroy the moment, Morty shook his head, pulling himself tighter against his companion, focusing on the beat of Rick's heart as he once again became vulnerable, grateful that he didn't have to look into Rick's face as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, it was worth it. I..." Morty swallowed and pressed his face in between the wings of Rick's shoulder blades, his forehead nestled against the top of Rick's spine just below his neck, "It was kinda hard. Y'know, a-at first. I was – I was really scared, Rick. But... If being a vampire means th-that I can have this.." Morty gave Rick another small squeeze. "Then it's worth not having the normal heartbeat at all."

Afraid of the potential for mocking, no matter how patient Rick had been in the past, Morty tried to appear chipper but his voice cracked, showing the exposed nature of his emotions.

"Plus, all the powers are wicked cool, Rick. Way cooler than being a puny human."

Rick froze, shuddering as he felt a trickle of dread run down his spine at what Morty had just said. He barely heard the boy’s joking deflection after dropping that bombshell. He just pulled himself out of Morty's arms, the chill of the basement air cutting through him like he'd just stepped out into the middle of a snowstorm, and ignored the shiver that ran down his spine as he sat up and stared, shocked, down at the little vampire who'd been hiding behind him. But Morty wouldn't meet his eyes.

"M-morty, look at me," he snarled, voice harsh, reaching out and pulling Morty's chin up until the boy was forced to look into his eyes.

"What did I tell you about believing me when I said you were always amazing? Don't make me actually have to go through with incepting you, you little shit. You becoming a vampire didn't give y-you–" Rick flailed one arm out violently, but his grip on Morty's chin stayed soft and steady.

"It didn't give you some magic key to- to getting me to open up or whatever you're thinking, Morty. _It broke me._ A-and you wriggled in past a lot of- of the shit I do to keep people away while my defenses were down. It let you set up camp behind them, sure, but you'd have gotten there eventually. A-and knowing us we'd have gotten stuck in a f-fucking time loop or- or in my memories or some other crazy shit, and you'd have had the chance no matter what. Nothing is worth your life, Morty. A-and if I ever– if you ever felt– fuck." Rick pulled his hands back and rubbed them into his eyes, sighing.

"Just– you were just as important to me before you died Morty. I'm just not good at showing it. I didn't– I appreciate the sentiment but, Christ, kid."

Morty allowed Rick to direct his face and he willingly looked up into the startling blue clarity of Rick's eyes, not looking away even as the man broke eye contact during his little speech. He was fine, accepting of what’d been said right up until the older man admitted to being broken by Morty's death. He'd assumed as much, having not only seen the guilt first hand but smelled it as well... but hearing Rick actually _say_ that he'd been hurt by it, that it’d not just hurt him but _broke him.._ That was a whole new level of pain.

It made Morty want to soothe, to use his words in a way that often failed him and to convey his emotions but it was difficult. There was a certain challenge that came with sorting through the many thoughts running through his head. There were simply so many paths that he could take in terms of what to say and, as Rick finished, Morty kept looking into the scientist's face. His own features were practically a portrait of what was running through his mind, changing as his thoughts moved from place to place. Finally though, after truly considering what Rick said, Morty chose one and went with it.

"Yeah, Rick.” He agreed. “Something would have happened. Somehow we would have got there. A-a-and y'know what happened, Rick? I got turned into a vampire. That's what happened and that's how we got there."

The boy frowned, willing Rick to understand, to grasp what he was saying and not take it the wrong way as he continued, "Rick, I'm dead. Undead. _Whatever._ I'm something less than human now.. And I _like_ it. Do you know what's happened since I died, Rick? I-I-I've spilled my guts to you. I told you about stuff I could barely admit to myself and we.. We made pancakes and went to London and I got to know a little about you and I feel _good,_ Rick. I feel more alive now than I ever did when I was human."

Morty wanted to stop there. He wanted to just let things be as they were, to allow the matter to rest with the closure he'd given it but there was something else, something else he needed to say, something that he needed Rick to know, no matter how bad the fallout was. The vampire grabbed both of Rick’s wrists, his thumbs lingering just above Rick's pulse point as he prepared to hold him if the older man tried to pull away or escape.

"I don't blame you, Rick, for what happened. You blame yourself.” Morty said firmly, his eyes soft even as his tone remained serious. “I'm not, y'know, using your company as a way t-to cope with being a – a vampire. That's just a bonus. Do you understand? It was my fault, Rick. Y-you've always stressed how important it is to get away from danger if that's an option, to find a safe place and then portal out o-o-or call for backup or _whatever,_ and I didn't do that, Rick. I stayed in an environment that I thought was unsafe and something happened.

“And yeah, you could have prevented it, but so could I."

Morty stared up into the older man's face with a sort of determination that he rarely ever felt, a confidence that wasn't natural to him and the teen squeezed his companion’s wrists.

"What's done is done, Rick. I'm a vampire, and you're a scientist, and mom and dad are coming home later a-a-and that's just the – the way it is. And I don't care, because y'know what, Rick? I'm here. With you. And we're having this talk. A-and if this was a week ago, you'd be telling me to shut the fuck up and hand you a screwdriver and I'd be feeling high and dry and wanting to connect and you'd be drunk as fuck and probably blowing up the garage."

 

* * *

 

Rick watched Morty's expression as the vampire thought about what he'd said, relieved to see that his grandson was really absorbing his words. He sighed softly when Morty agreed with him and settled in to listen, mumbling, "N-not less, different," under his breath as he did, not interrupting but unwilling to let Morty say he was less than human without comment. And when Morty paused Rick thought about what his grandson had said, about how the boy felt more alive and how he liked being a vampire.

The moments Morty chose to focus on, the moments he'd enjoyed, made the tension coiling Rick up loosen a little, and it soothed his aching conscience to hear that he wasn't unhappy. But when Morty grabbed hold of him and said that he didn't blame him.. His grandson knew him well; Rick's first reaction was to try and pull away, but Morty had a tight grip on him, and he settled uneasily, eyes wide and flickering across Morty's face as he just kept _talking,_ saying things that– Rick trembled and shook his head helplessly, but he kept listening, and Morty's words sank into him.

_Morty didn't blame him._

Rick repeated the phrase until he started to believe it, because he could see that Morty really seemed to believe it too. The relief flooding through him was almost painful – hard to think about. He'd been running himself ragged for days trying to make up for what he'd let happen to Morty, and trying to put that guilt aside was like trying to move a mountain, but Morty was so _earnest._

He couldn't stop blaming himself. He didn't think he ever would. But sharing the weight of it with Morty made it feel just a little more bearable.

Rick breathed out shakily, and slumped forward like a puppet with it's strings cut, letting his forehead rest against Morty's chest.

"O-okay," he breathed, even though the word hurt coming out.

Morty knew it was a lot to take in. He’d known that from the moment he said the words aloud and, though it was something Morty knew he needed to address in one way or another, he’d honestly been afraid that Rick wouldn’t take it as well as he had. He’d been afraid that the older man would reject his claim and try to flee, that he’d try to force him away. Maybe even going as far as to portal out. And maybe he’d come back later and apologize and maybe he wouldn’t – but when Rick let out that slow, shaky breath of air and leaned forward, when his forehead pressed against the teen's chest, Morty knew that his words had, somehow, gained purchase. They'd dug their claws into Rick's mind and, even if the guilt didn't ease right away, it was a start.

As gentle fingers slowly reached up and cupped the back of Rick's head, threading into the soft, blue hair at the older man’s nape, Morty considered that, just a few days ago, they'd been in the exact opposite position. Their roles had been reversed. The other day it was Morty with his face pressed to Rick's chest, Morty that was seeking shelter from the emotional storm, and Rick who was comforting him. It touched something in Morty. It touched something deep and terribly needed inside of him to know that Rick was allowing himself to be weak, that the older man was comfortable enough to lean on him emotionally, to let him share the load. Morty smiled a little bit more, running his fingers through Rick's hair, musing to himself about how soft the strands were, how vibrant they looked in comparison to the vampire's ashen skin, and Morty felt his spirits lift.

"Thank you for listening."

_Thank you for not leaving me alone. Thank you for taking me seriously. Thank you for sharing the weight and letting me take some of it off your shoulders. You don't have to do it alone Rick. I'm here. I'm here for you, always._

Morty dropped his voice to a soft whisper, a whisper that was just for the two of them.

"Thanks for making me feel normal, Rick. I know how much you hate it, th-th-the social constructs and stuff like that a-and that you say it makes us sheeps to the will of the people in power, and I kinda agree, but it means a lot to me.. I appreciate your effort."

Tension drained out of Rick like water down a drain as Morty rested his hand on the back of his neck. His touch gave Rick the strength to pull himself back together, and when Morty combed his fingers through his hair he found that he could sigh contentedly, nodding against the vampire's chest in response to his unnecessary thanks.

And when Morty continued Rick found himself laughing weakly and, without lifting his head, he said, "I've never said 'sheep to the will of those in power' in my life, Louis de Pointe du Lac, you're the one who whips out the big, dramatic disquisitions."

Then he arched his head into Morty's hand demandingly and continued, his voice firmer with every word.

"You're better than normal, Morty, normal blows. Something something, social constructs, blah blah, sheeple. You're accepted, Morty, I accept you the way you are. That's way better."

Morty grinned at Rick's cat-like behavior, snickering at the way the older man arched into his affection, and the teen gently glided his nails along Rick’s scalp in response before barking out a laugh.

"Oh jeez, Rick. I love Anne Rice. How did you know?"

The younger man wanted to make some kind of a comment about Rick being similar to Lestat but he let it rest, not wanting to accidentally bring up the sore subject of Rick being a vampire any time soon lest he also bring up the topic of Rick’s death alongside it. Instead he just smiled at the scientist's description of him.

"You're right Rick. I'm just better. Glad you finally figured it out."

Morty’s self-esteem was embellished for the humor of it but, for the moment, he believed it. He believed almost everything Rick said and this was no different.

Morty calmed a little, content in the moment to pet Rick's wild, all-over-the-place, blue hair, occasionally scratching his scalp when a sudden question he'd always wondered popped into his head and past his lips before he could contain it.

"H-hey Rick. Y'know, speaking of normal and stuff, normal people don't usually have naturally blue hair. How come you do? I've never seen you dye it a-and mom's never complained about blue stains in the bathroom so I'm pretty sure you don't."

 

* * *

 

"Why wouldn't you? You're basically a teenage girl, crushing on every fictional vampire in existence," Rick teased and then shook his head in amusement as Morty's bluster.

He felt relaxed again, getting lost in the wonderful sensation of Morty's fingers scratching along his scalp when the boy spoke up once more, asking about his hair.

That made him blush again, and he was fervently grateful that Morty couldn't see, but he spoke up despite that, saying, "Ugh, it's embarrassing.. but okay, fine. Just– don't tell anyone. Remember how I was a little shit disturber of a kid? Well, I had black hair as a child, but I thought that was _boring._ I wanted to dye it, but r-regular dye wasn't good enough for me. So I worked for a few weeks on a permanent one, something to change the pigment in my hair at a molecular level, Morty. It was cool shit, b-but of course I also thought I was too good for testing. So I drank this concoction down, and my hair turned blue and I was a smug little asshole about it and went to bed, only to wake up bald, with my hair all over my pillow. N-no eyebrows, no eyelashes, no body hair at all, fucking– nothing. I was stuck that way for over a month, Morty. I'd finally resorted to working on making some overpowered rogaine when it finally started growing back; it came in blue that time too but I didn't care about that anymore. I was just so fucking glad to see it at all that never fucked with it again."

The teen tried to keep his laughter contained, he really did. He forcibly swallowed it down like overly thick cough syrup but, as the story continued, Morty felt his control slip and suddenly his chest was tight and trembling with barely contained laughter. However, when Rick admitted that he'd lost all his hair because of his impulsive decision making skills, Morty absolutely lost it. He didn't even try to keep the laughter contained, his body shaking with the force of it, and he carefully dropped his head, pressing his forehead to Rick's soft hair just above his bald spot, continuing to pet the other man's unnaturally colored locks as he had a good, genuine laugh at Rick's expense.

"Oh my – Oh my God Rick, tell me you didn't. Lord. Your mom sure had her hands full."

Having gotten it out, Morty blew out a final amused breath and sat up, making sure not to move away from the older man as he admitted, "It suits you, Rick. Makes you different on th-the outside to match how different you are on the inside too."

Morty smiled fondly down at Rick's bowed head, steady waves of affection lapping at his conscious thoughts as the two of them sat there, both vulnerable but not sunk into the heavy bog of confessions and heart wrenching emotion. It felt nice, comfortable, and Morty honestly couldn't get over how often he found himself thinking that same thought. No matter how many ways he rephrased it. Being with Rick.. It was like being home, no matter where that happened to be, and the teen really only ever felt that special connection, that soul warming familiarity, with his grandpa. His very best friend.

Morty's smile slowly fell as he glanced towards Rick's watch.

It was nearly morning, nearly time for the older man to go get his parents. The vampire's fingers started to still. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them, wasn't that he didn't want them to come home necessarily, but it meant change. He wouldn't be able to get away with sleeping in the hatch whenever he felt like it. He’d have to go to school and pretend to be normal. Eat meals with the family, talk about growing up as if that were in the cards for him, try not to smile too wide lest they notice his fangs, force himself not to move too quickly. It sounded exhausting. He wondered if that was how Rick felt when he pretended to be happy, when he pretended that everything was fine and he wasn't drowning in seas of of guilt.

Morty's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid of my parents coming home, Rick. I don't want to pretend for them.

 

* * *

 

Rick snickered as Morty laughed at his expense, enjoying both the sound of it and the feeling of Morty's chest shaking against his head. He nudged in closer again, rather than pulling back from his grandson. He didn't really want to move, and Morty didn't seem to mind, so he was content to stay put, smiling to himself when Morty saw fit to compliment his hair.

Morty was all around him, touching him, holding him, playing with his hair. Rick couldn't imagine anywhere he'd rather be. He'd been thinking that a lot recently, that there was nothing he'd rather be doing than curling up with his grandson. Morty had thanked him for making him feel normal, but Rick was the one who had ripped open his chest and exposed all of his vulnerabilities to the boy.

He'd let Morty see him, let him squirm in and burrow deep inside of him where barely anyone had ever been, and it was.. it was wonderful and terrible and terrifying to leave himself so vulnerable and to trust that Morty would continue to accept him. But he did trust him. Morty wouldn't hurt him.

_As long as he doesn't find out how you really feel about him. No one would accept that and no one should._ That thought hurt, but Rick just pushed it aside, simply basking in their closeness instead. This was all he'd ever need. He could pine for eternity and never regret it if he got to have this.

When Morty spoke up again after a long, easy, quiet moment between them, Rick pulled back just enough to be able to look up at him. He held the boy's eyes, seeing the weary fear and nerves there, before flopping down to lay on his back on the couch again, leaving Morty half sitting up above him and squished into the back cushions by his efforts.

"I'm probably not the best person to talk to about not wanting to pretend, Morty. I do it all the time. Although, my pretending is a lot less.. drastic than yours will have to be. But Morty, you never have to pretend with me, and anytime it gets to be too much you've got your safeword. We can leave anytime, go on an adventure; lie and say we are and just hide down here; whatever. You're in control, Morty. Not them. You decide everything, and you're choosing what you allow them to see and know. Even if you want to make up some, what did you call it when you lied so well to Summer.. virus that mutated your cells? If you want to make up something like that to explain your strength I'll back your play. And if you want to out yourself I've got your back there too. No matter what."

Morty laid beside Rick, propped up with a hand on his cheek and an elbow supporting his weight from below, thinking about what the older man had just said in terms of comfort and understanding.

The vampire was slowly getting used to not being alone but it still felt odd to have somebody in his corner. Especially when that person was Rick. Most of his issues, small as they were before Rick showed up, were dealt with on his own or avoided as much as possible. And when avoidance wasn’t an option, he generally didn’t go to Rick. His grandpa had a habit of scoffing at issues that took place on a smaller scale. So, after learning his lesson quite thoroughly within the first few months of Rick living with them, Morty simply got used to not relying on his mentor for anything less than what he, himself, would consider an eight out of ten on his internal panic scale. And yet, here they were, cuddled up on the couch like old friends with Rick trying to comfort him as the vampire spilled out his fears to the one person he never would’ve bothered with before.

Morty smiled.

Rick was all sprawled out, loose-limbed as he looked up at the ceiling. He looked like an overly lazy sloth in its natural environment, and Morty got a wicked grin on in his face, doing his very best impression of David Attenborough as that thought crossed his mind.

"A-a-and here, in the wild, untamed valleys of Washington, we see a wild Sanchez, a – a Rick, lounging about in the heat of th-the concrete jungle, content and resting. A rare sight indeed as this is the first time one of these creatures has been caught on camera and filmed in their natural habitat."

Rick opened one eye and glared up at Morty, though the expression was ruined by the smile quirking up one corner of his lips. He reached out lazily and batted his hand at Morty before covering the boy's mouth.

"If I'm a wild Sanchez does that mean I bite when you annoy me?" Rick asked, snapping his teeth and then grinning for a moment before he yawned widely and pulled his hand back to cover his own mouth.

The teen's lips split into a large grin, genuine and warm as he looked down at his grandfather.

"M-my mistake, Rick. You're a very domesticated Sanchez. The only one in the world." Morty giggled shamelessly and poked Rick in the side.

Rick flinched away from Morty's fingers and then groaned and flung his arm over his eyes.

"Ugh, that's worse. Shut up, maybe I really will bite you."

Morty snickered.

"Between the two of us, I-I think it would probably make more sense for _me_ to bite _you,_ Rick."

Morty chuckled and dropped his head gently to the older man's shoulder and cuddled up against the scientist's side, yawning a bit. He seemed tired, so tired lately. It made him wonder about how much of it had to do with his vampirism and how much of it was centered around his laziness due to the fact that he wasn't doing much of anything with his days. Morty let his eyes droop, not really in the mood to sleep but lulled into an unguarded sense of comfort by Rick's presence.

"How much longer do we have?" _How long until you have to leave? When do I have to start pretending to be something I'm not?_

"You won't bite me, Morty, you're a good boy. Very domesticated." Rick teased, resting his hand on top of Morty's hair and enjoying the feel of the vampire all curled up against him.

"And.. six hours, maybe? Fuck.. I'm.." Rick yawned again, hugely, "exhausted. Don't worry, Morty. I'll give you a present to go along with your parents. Balance things out. You'll love it."

_I want to. I want to bite you,_ Morty thought in the wake of Rick’s silence.

But he wouldn't. He would never bite Rick, not without his explicit consent, and Morty highly doubted that would ever happen. Instead he just smiled up at his grandpa.

"Yeah, doesn't get much more domesticated than a vampire drinking blood from a mug."

The domesticated vampire felt a throb of heat go through him when he thought about Rick calling him a good boy, the feeling far less innocent than what Rick’s comment should’ve inspired. But the tiny bolt of lust, the one that left Morty aching for just a little more, quickly morphed into a burst of calming warmth inside his ribs at Rick's yawn. The word cute would never really apply to a man like Rick, but Morty honestly couldn't think if any other way to describe it. He immediately found himself yawning alongside Rick, the action contagious.

"I like presents, Rick. You always find the coolest stuff."

Morty wanted to tell the vibrant-haired genius laid out beside him that he could sleep if he wanted and that the vampire would protect him. Regardless of the unlikelihood that anybody – or anything– would hurt Rick in his own domain, Morty still felt it and he still wanted Rick to know. He wanted the older man to know that he'd protect him no matter what but Morty had a feeling the proclaimed devotion wouldn’t be welcome. So, instead, Morty just laid his head on Rick's arm and enjoyed the silence, trying not to think about his parents as he focused on the feeling of Rick's warm palm on the back of his head, touching his curls.

It felt nice. A warm, welcome weight, and Morty just closed his eyes, basking in the sensations, the smells, the content emotion, and he wondered what Rick had planned for him, what kind of present Rick could possibly plan to give him.

Rick smiled softly to himself as he felt sleep start to creep up on him, each blink taking longer, his eyelids feeling heavy. He was safe and comfortable and so tired, but..

"N-n-no I– mmmph.. can't sleep."

Rick blinked his eyes open with difficulty. He paused for too long before speaking again, forcing his eyes open wide because every time he closed them he lost track of time.

"I've gotta fix the tile you mentioned before your parents come home. Keep your secret. You were supposed to remind me, Morty. I need to get up."

But despite his words Rick made absolutely no effort to move. He didn't know why he was so tired. He could normally go days without a decent night's rest, but having Morty curled up with him put Rick at ease, sapping his usual nervous energy and leaving him sleepy and relaxed instead.

Not to mention these past few days had been emotionally exhausting and draining in a way that Rick simply wasn't used to. He was worn out, and sleep – normally something to be avoided until he almost literally collapsed with exhaustion, was a comfort with Morty cuddled against his side, all warmth and gentle shifting movement. But, nevertheless, Rick just yawned once more before starting the arduous process of detangling himself from Morty and the couch.

A tiny jolt of panic raced through the curly-haired vampire in the blink of an eye as Rick started to detach himself and move away.

Morty could feel the heat slipping from his body. He could feel the over abundance of space on the couch and the emptiness it left behind alongside him, and without really thinking about it, Morty darted his hand out and grabbed Rick by the wrist. The vampire was decently surprised – by both his own actions and the distinct need he felt not to be separated from Rick, even for short periods of time.

The younger man felt his panic rise, unsure of what to say or how to explain without causing some sort of issue. He felt drained, as though he'd been peeled back, layer by layer and coat by coat. With every scene of emotional vulnerability that occurred between them Morty felt himself become more and more exposed, fatigued down to his very core, and the curly haired boy didn't think he could handle another round of it. Not without sleep. Not without a brief interlude of peace. But he also didn't want the other man to leave, not when he felt so open and so unsure of what would happen in the coming hours. Not when everything was bound to drastically change a second time when the morning rolled around.

Momentarily speechless, Morty just looked up at Rick, feeling small, almost helpless against the couch, and his grip on the genius' wrist loosened in the event that Rick declined and decided to leave, making sure to give him the option.

"Stay?"

That one questioning word was spoken at a whisper, so full of uncertainty, and Morty winced internally, irritated at himself for always appearing so weak in front of the strongest man he knew. Morty didn't want to be without strength. He didn't want to appear fragile and easily broken, but no matter what Rick said, no matter how much support he offered, Morty was afraid. He was afraid of his parents and not being able to keep such a large and difficult secret hidden away from the watchful eyes of his family. He was afraid of what they would say, the way they might look at him, if they found out and reacted badly. He was afraid of what it’d do to his spirit to keep himself so confined and close to the chest, though he’d been doing that for years already.

Though he didn't say as much, couldn't say as much, the teen allowed that to show on his face.

He just wanted Rick. Wanted to be safe and warm, to know beyond a single doubt that nothing would happen to him. He wanted to feel that comfort that only Rick was able to provide. He wanted intimacy without words, but most of all Morty wanted to feel loved. He wanted to watch Rick fall asleep, wanted to feel that warm flush of pleasure at the knowledge that the most guarded man in the universe trusted him enough to let down his guard and sleep. He wanted to see the lines, all the strain, disappear from Rick's face.

"Please?"

Rick stared up at Morty, breathing slow and painful, feeling like he had to fight for every breath of air that he was sucking down, but wanting, more than the air itself, for Morty not to realize how hard it was for him to simply be here and still and quiet in this moment with him. This felt dangerous. Morty was gazing at him with those big green eyes of his, looking so obviously, painfully vulnerable, so needy, and Rick knew that it would be so fucking easy to screw this up.

One wrong move, that's all it would take.

Morty was leaving himself wide open, and he knew it would only take one tiny misstep for him to break the fragile little vampire.. but despite that, or maybe because of it, he couldn't bring himself to act. He knew what Morty wanted from him, but that didn't mean he knew what move was the right one to make. 

He didn't even know what move he _wanted_ to make. The urge to flee was powerful, and just as painfully overwhelming as the urge to wrap Morty up in his arms and promise he'd never, ever go. But as Rick stared into Morty's eyes, taking in all the fear and uncertainty and vulnerability there, he found that it didn't matter how much he wanted to run. He couldn't bring himself to do it, not with how exposed and vulnerable Morty was making himself right now, not with how much of himself Morty was baring to him. He couldn't bring himself to hurt the younger man like that, to watch that hopeful, fragile light in his eyes splutter out and die. He couldn't live with the knowledge that he'd killed it. So he settled back into his place on the couch without protest, and no matter how much the action made him want to squirm and close his eyes and hide from the vulnerability of the moment he didn't let himself do any of those things. Morty wanted him there, and no matter how difficult it was for him to let himself accept this, he wouldn't deny that he wanted it too.. desperately. He wanted to bask in the love and comfort and warmth that was so obvious alongside that painful vulnerability in Morty's eyes, and Rick knew that he could. He just had to let it happen.

So he gently took his wrist back and then reached out and shifted Morty's small body around until he was laying against his side again. He snuggled up tight to him, with his grandson's head resting on his shoulder, one of his long arms curled around the vampire and resting against his hair again, long fingers threaded through Morty's curls. Then, tentatively, he took Morty's hand and brought it gently back to rest over his heart once more, using his exhaustion as an excuse to keep his eyes shut tight while he did so.

The action was too purposefully intimate after already having rearranged Morty into a position he liked, but he wanted to calm the vampire, to offer him a haven for the night, before the storm of his parent's return. And Morty had reached out first – he'd initiated the contact earlier; he'd held his hand against Rick's heartbeat and opened up to him after doing so. He'd relaxed against him.. So this was okay. He just wanted to give that to Morty again after upsetting him when he'd tried to get up.

Rick's heart slammed against Morty's palm with nerves as he waited for the vampire's reaction, giving lie to the forced calm in his body, but that was okay, too. That was just another layer to the intimacy of the gesture. And by now Rick had fully committed to what he was doing, leaving his hesitancy in the dust and grabbing for every little scrap of intimacy he could manage to reach with both hands. He was starving for it after denying himself for so long, like a first sip of water after days in the desert, and he knew he would have ripped open his own chest and let Morty cup his deceptively strong hands directly around his heart if he could have. He longed to have Morty under his skin, to give himself over to the boy any way he could manage, but that was too much to reveal to Morty. So a simple reinitiation of a touch.. That would do, that wasn't too much. Rick hoped that was true as he held himself still, but he didn't know. All he knew was that he'd exposed himself as surely as Morty had when he'd begged him to stay.

_Rick didn’t pull away._

The thought left Morty's head spinning. It left him teetering on the edge of reality, swallowed by the surrealism of the moment, but he tried not to overthink it and to simply be grateful that Rick trusted him enough and cared for him enough to stay. Rather than try to overcomplicate it by speaking, Morty silently burrowed deeper into Rick's side. The teen snuggled against Rick without shame or self-consciousness, his cheek sliding further from his shoulder and closer to the scientist's chest with each movement but he couldn't be bothered to care. If Rick wanted him to move, he'd say so, but when the blue haired man gingerly shifted the brunet's hand to lay against his heart, Morty's assurance that Rick would do no such thing was further cemented.

Rick wanted him close – didn't mind having him close – and that seemed like a more genuinely won victory, and more of an accomplishment, than anything Morty had ever done in his entire life.

As the teen splayed his fingers over Rick's heart, touching as much of the genius' breast bone as he could, he could feel the nervousness that refused to be quelled within his grandfather and Morty found himself nearly startled by that. Rick didn't do uncertainty. He was a man of action, one of confidence that simply _did,_ moving through life with an air of credence to his actions that the entire human race as a whole would have envied had they known it existed.

But Morty could still feel the flurry of emotion beneath his touch, the storm of Rick's emotion, and he was in awe of it.

The other man's heart was like the thunder of hooves striking the earth, like the pounding of a horse racing across the plains, and Morty longed to feel it without the layers of cotton between them. He wanted to slide his inhumanly cool palm under Rick's shirt and capture the scalding heat of bare flesh with nothing in between. He longed to feel the slam of Rick's heart against his ribs with nothing but muscle and skin and bone between the vampire's palm and the throb of Rick's heart, longed to burrow beneath the older man's skin and reach a part of Rick that nobody before him had ever reached. And he wanted to cradle that part. He wanted to hold the power to crush Rick more surely than he could turn granite to dust between his fingertips with the unwavering knowledge that he never would, that he would _never_ hurt Rick or allow him to be hurt. There was something about the scientist, something that beckoned him closer, and no matter how close Morty got, no matter how many secrets he managed to wrangle from Rick's broken and crumbled walls of emotional self-defense, it still wasn't enough. He couldn't get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough, and though Morty knew his thoughts were unhealthy, especially where his _grandpa_ was concerned, he couldn't stop the way they consumed everything. Morty couldn’t stop the way they clung to every fiber of his being, – of _Rick's_ being –  and refused to let go.

Unconsciously, Morty's thumb began to rhythmically stroke the little area of Rick's chest that it could reach in a soothing manner. It was a mindless reassurance, a promise to Rick that it was fine, _it's all fine,_ and that Morty wanted to be there, to be close to Rick, and that he wanted the intimacy that came with holding Rick's heart in his palm.

 

* * *

 

Rick's heart kicked in his chest as he felt Morty curl his fingers and then splay them across his ribs, pressing them into his skin. It felt like his grandson was trying to get as close to holding his heart in his hand as he could, like he understood Rick's helpless desire to surrender the autonomy of his heart and let it beat for both of them, understood it and accepted it.

His thoughts frightened him with their intensity. Rick was filled with the need to offer himself up to Morty, a willing sacrifice laid eagerly across an altar for the vampire. The craving to submit himself, to sustain Morty, to support him, was becoming such a powerful part of him, and it was too much to stand. It hurt to feel the depth of emotion that pounded through him with each beat of his heart.

Rick was starting to tremble with the need to escape the sheer voracity of his emotions, was so close to pulling away.. but then he felt Morty stroke his thumb soothingly across his chest.

That gentle caress eased the painful tangle inside of him just enough for him to breathe, and finally his racing pulse slowed. Each brush of Morty's thumb calmed him further, gentling the whirl of his thoughts, relaxing the tension out of every inch of his body, and Rick sank into the sensation of being laid-bare under Morty's inhuman perception and didn't fight it.

He was safe; exposed, but cherished.

Rick let his eyes slit open, heavy-lidded and hazy with pent up emotion, and took in the sight of Morty's hand resting protectively against his chest. He looked to where he was holding Morty close, cradling the boy's head against himself, the way Morty was snuggled up so tightly to him. Their legs were tangled together. Morty's thigh was curled around his own.

It was hard to tell where one of them started and the other ended, and the thought was a comfort. Morty's touch smoothed across his heart and Rick let his eyes linger on the rhythmic motion, let it ease him gently toward sleep, and, finally, as the last breaths of tension eased out of his body and left him drifting and sleepy-calm, let it be the last thing he saw before his eyes slipped close as he slid into blissful unconsciousness.

Morty could feel the shift beneath his palm as Rick calmed. He could feel the way his heartbeat slowed and evened out, becoming steadily in sync with his breathing, and the brunet peeked up at the older man.

Rick was already asleep, or incredibly close to it.

His face was unguarded, stress free and relaxed in a way that Morty was quickly growing to love more than anything in his life. Aside from the man himself. The sight was only accentuated by the faint puffs of Rick's breath and the occasional snore pulling from his parted lips. Morty felt his heart soar, bursting with undeniable fondness. Cautious with fear that Rick would wake, Morty reached up with his free hand – unwilling to break contact with the scientist's heartbeat – and he touched Rick's cheek. It was something he couldn't resist. It something he hadn't been able to resist the last time he saw Rick sleep, and the vampire ghosted his fingertips along the sharp features of Rick's face, tracing his cheekbones, the curve of his brow, and the soft skin below the scientist's eyes.

The flesh there was soft as a butterfly's wing, dark with near permanent dark circles from constantly being hungover, from a severe lack of sleep. He'd never noticed them before, not really. The intensity of Rick's sharp and unwavering blue eyes always seemed to distract him. They drew the teen's thoughts from the Rick's flaws and the things that made him human. But when he was asleep, when Rick was unconscious and unguarded and his eyes were shielded, he seemed so much more fragile and Morty couldn't part his gaze from the genius' face. Pushing his luck, Morty slid his fingers into Rick's hair and dragged his nails gently along the older man’s scalp in the way that Rick seemed to enjoy. Morty stretched up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to Rick's cheek, letting his lips linger for a long moment before moving away and watching over the older man as he slept.

Morty no longer felt tired in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Ilmatar, the planet Rick describes in this chapter, is from a book called A Darkling Sea by James L. Cambias, which I highly recommend. I didn't make it up, I just thought it fit the situation well. -Sqk


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> It's been a while but Sqk and I are back again with a new chapter for you guys! I admit, the snail pace has been mostly my fault. I was really slacking on the editing, getting way too wrapped up in other aspects of my life and just dealing with a lot of things I didn't expect. I apologize, both to you guys and for poor Sqk who's been waiting on me to pick up my responsibilities and stop being such a slacker. They're honestly the best and I really don't deserve them and all their patience. You're all wonderful fans and I know I speak for the both of us when I say that we really appreciate all your continued support and the lovely comments you leave and just the fact that you guys have stuck with us even though we've updated slowly. Thank you all so much. We hope that you enjoy this chapter and that we can bring you the next one much more quickly this time around.  
> xoxo,  
> Clair and Sqk
> 
> PS: Clair is fantastic and she apologizes too much. A new chapter is a happy occasion. Yay, new chapter! And yes, you're all fantastic too. Can't hit publish without at least tucking that in. Enjoy! -Sqk

Rick slowly came awake to the sensation of fingers running through his hair and a soft voice calling for him. He blinked sleepy eyes open and found himself with his head resting in Morty's lap, the flickering glow of the projector illuminating his face as he looked down at Rick. The sound of another nature show was just barely audible in the background. It was quiet enough that he couldn't make it out, though he was sure the vampire could hear it just fine. 

It took Rick a good few moments to wake up enough to realize it, and to feel a little burst of fondness as he noticed that Morty's hand was still resting over his heart. It made him want to smile up at his grandson, but before he could manage it the expression ended up twisting into a yawn, and he tangled his arm with Morty's as he sleepily fumbled to bring his hand up to cover his mouth.

Morty grinned down at Rick in response, his pearly, white fangs on full display, and he pushed a couple strands of Rick’s messy blue hair away from his forehead. The sounds of nature and British narration filled his ears, tempting him with the biology of other species and their quirky habits in the wild, but Morty only had eyes for Rick. He was sure the affection was there in his gaze, the fondness that he honestly couldn't be bothered to hide, and Morty giggled as Rick covered his mouth.

"Do you want some coffee, Rick? I'll make it extra strong since y-y-you have to go deal with my dad. And mom.” 

He snorted. “A-at least you like my mom.

"Mmm.. you do that, that's good," Rick mumbled, but made no effort to move off Morty's lap. 

He was incredibly comfortable where he was, and the prospect of going to fetch his daughter and her idiot wasn't one he was looking forward to. A niggling little voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let him forget that if he’d never agreed to take them to marriage counselling he would have been in the garage with his phone when Morty had called. 

Rick didn't really expect anything to happen while he was gone. He'd left Morty alone without any trouble once already, but it didn't change the fact that he didn't want to go back there. And he certainly didn't want to make the flight home while going over all the ways he could have moved just a little bit faster if he'd tried. Especially with company.

The curly-haired vampire looked down at Rick with amusement. He could practically see the displeasure written across the older man's face. It was apparent in the grumbling nature of Rick’s unspoken thoughts and the familiarly expected desire to simply procrastinate and, by extension, leave his parents on whatever planet he’d dropped them on. Within his own mind Morty could admit that even he could see the appeal but, unfortunately for both of them, Morty knew it wouldn't happen. No matter how little Rick felt like going, Morty knew his grandpa wouldn't abandon his daughter, not when it had the potential to trigger a riot that’d probably end in drunken tears on his mom’s end and loads of guilt for Rick. 

It was a bummer though, the teen thought, that they couldn't do just that. 

The sight of Rick's head in his lap was calming. The way his bright, vibrant colored hair spilled across Morty's new pants, the ease of his relaxed features, the neutrality of his emotions – it all had Morty breathing easy, but they both knew that the genius had to get up sooner or later. 

With the intent to be helpful and make the morning less of a drag, Morty gently lifted Rick's head and slid his yellow, anti-UV hoodie under the man's head as he rose from the couch. In a moment of weakness, the vampire let his fingertips linger against Rick's scalp in a silent reassurance that he didn't want to get up, let alone for Rick to leave, but also that he could handle it. 

"Don't worry, Rick. I'll make it darker than the nexus of a black hole." Morty told his grandpa. 

Morty did a self-assured series of mini skips over to the coffee machine and hummed the tune for  _ Hotel California _ as he set everything up, putting water in the back and a new coffee filter only to realize that, somehow, they were out of grounds. 

"Hmm, looks like I'll have to make it upstairs,” the teen said with a frown only to have his tone brighten up once more as he said, “I'll be right back, Rick!" 

Morty darted over to the ladder and scaled it with ease, sparing one last glance toward Rick from the top before smiling and slipping out of the hatch and into the garage, trying to suppress the tiny voice in his head that whispered about how everything beyond the hatch was starting to feel like a totally different world altogether. He used to consider the garage a safe haven, but even that no longer compared to his tiny home-away-from-home below the ground. And maybe that was a good thing, maybe it wasn’t, but he liked it either way. 

The vampire wore a dopey, easy-going smile as he wandered cautiously into the kitchen. He idly glanced around for any hint of Summer, but the redhead was nowhere to be seen. Morty wasn't exactly sure if she'd already left for school or if she just hadn't bothered to wake up yet, but, either way, it left the kitchen open to him. Still on a quest, Morty started searching through the kitchen cupboards with practiced ease before making a victorious sound when he found another container of Folgers dark roast coffee grounds. However, as he turned to make his way back to the garage, Morty suddenly caught sight of the stove. The surface was still cluttered with pans from yesterday’s breakfast adventure and, as Morty captured his lip between his teeth, he found himself struck by a brilliant idea. 

Morty glanced toward the fridge and continued to roll the concept around in his head, weighing it back and forth before throwing hesitancy to the wind and making his way over, opening the fridge and peeking inside. Eggs, bacon, cheese, salsa. Milk. And tortillas. The teen grinned and started pulling things out of the cooling unit, hoping that Rick would be unusually slow to get moving. He hoped that he'd have enough time to get everything ready and that, with any luck, he’d be able to avoid burning everything beyond consumption.

 

* * *

 

Rick's eyes closed in pleasure as Morty's fingers trailed along his head, and he only opened them back up when he turned onto his side to watch the vampire shimmy along to the kitchenette, his gaze softening in response to Morty's joking voice as he quietly enjoyed the moment. When Morty dashed up the ladder Rick let his eyes close again, burrowing his head into the vampire's hoodie. He was fully intent upon trying to fall back asleep before Morty made it back down, but all that changed when he felt something hard in the front pocket of his makeshift pillow. 

He dug nosily into the pocket, pulled out Morty's phone, and suddenly he was very much awake and grinning. The one part of his gift for Morty that he hadn't been sure how to accomplish in secret had fallen into his lap. 

Rick was up and rummaging around for supplies in the next instant, and prying off the back of Morty's phone in another. He was, all of a sudden, much more excited to go; he couldn't wait to come back and see the look on Morty's face when he saw what he was about to do.

Back up above, Morty was dancing around the kitchen. 

The lithe, unknowingly graceful vampire was buzzing with excitement as he heated two separate pans, flicking a good amount of butter into one of them and letting it heat up as he tried to multi-task. Slapping five or six pieces of bacon into the non buttered pan, Morty set to work on the eggs, cracking them into a bowl and cursing as he had to remove shell pieces, tossing them carelessly into the sink before continuing. Morty couldn’t help feeling like he was on a bit of a roll as he poured a tiny splash of milk into his eggs. He remembered that his mom tended to do something similar and that Rick liked it, which was more than enough for him to copy the gesture. The thought made him shake his head fondly and he grabbed a whisk a second later, beating his eggs at inhuman speeds. A grin parted his lips when Morty realized how quick and easy the prep was, a feeling of immense pride filling him as he poured the egg mixture into his buttered pan and let it start to cook. Morty quickly flipped the bacon and then he was off doing something else, starting the coffee pot, making sure there were a ridiculous amount of extra grounds and that he'd make due on his promise to serve Rick a cup of black hole brew. 

The brunet chuckled. 

He was giddy with pleasure and it showed in the eagerness of his actions as he quickly searched the kitchen for a grater. Finding one took less than a minute and, by the time Morty had it against a plate, he was right back in his groove. The vampire made an imaginary show of grating up cheese more easily than he'd ever done in the past when his dad asked him to do it for tacos and Morty's grin widened when he eyed up the large mountain of cheddar below the grater. Turning back to the stove, the in-tune little vampire scooped sizzling bacon onto a plate, wincing at the slightly burnt pieces. He tried not to beat himself up about the slight error as he scrambled the eggs in the pan and dumped the entire load of cheese on top, watching it turn into a lactose intolerant person's worst nightmare. 

Whistling, the vampire couldn’t help but admit to feeling particularly smug at how well he was doing. He put the tortillas in the microwave and started crumbling bacon while he waited for them to heat, checking the coffee, glancing around for anything he might have missed, but suddenly the tortillas were done and he was throwing everything together. 

In total, Morty made Rick three burritos, two of which were wrapped in tinfoil for the road, brimming with a ridiculous amount of cheesy eggs, bacon crumbles, salsa, and sour cream with three strips of bacon on the side. 

He felt accomplished, undeniably pleased with both his work and the initial idea, but as Morty reached up in the cupboard for a travel mug and spotted  _ another  _ #1 Dad cup, his eyes lit up with excitement. Rick was sure to be amused and Morty giggled as he grabbed a large portable mug, filling it to the very brim with disgustingly black coffee. The teen turned everything off, leaving a shameless mess in the kitchen – one he would probably end up cleaning while Rick was gone – and he raced back into the garage. It was a bit awkward, juggling the dad mug, Rick’s food, and the coffee as he dropped gracefully into the hatch, but he managed it alright and Morty’s smile was huge by the time he laid eyes on his grandpa. 

"I’ve got a surprise for you, Rick!" 

Morty trotted over to him and dropped his dad's mug on the couch with a snort before presenting Rick with his offering, heart in his throat, vibrating with excitement.

Rick tucked Morty's phone nonchalantly back into the boy's hoodie as he heard the hatch open, and then grinned delightedly as he saw, and smelled, what Morty was carrying. 

"Another day, another mug. I don't know where your dad keeps getting them," he joked as Morty tossed the prize on the couch, reaching out greedily for his plate of food, his eyes alight with excitement. 

He took the plate and rested it in his lap, then rubbed his hands together and popped a slice of bacon into his mouth right away. 

"Mmm.. Morty, ohh. You spoil me," Rick moaned, reaching out eagerly for the mug and breathing it in deeply before he took a big gulp. Then he sighed, letting his head loll back for a moment before he put the mug aside. 

"Have you tried the bacon yet? It would be a crime if you couldn't taste it. Although, I'm sure bacon dipped in blood would be just as good." 

Rick nodded to the seat next to him as he picked up his burrito and took a bite, eyes slipping closed happily as he chewed. 

"Mmpphh.. this is delicious."

Morty didn't even try to hide how happy he was when Rick accepted the plate.

He wanted to say that it was the other way around, that Rick spoiled  _ him, _ but the vampire refrained. His unabashed joy grew exponentially when the older man took a sip of his coffee, obviously not rejecting it and even going as far as to compliment his food a moment later. 

The brunet's stomach was a mess. The organ was rolling all over the place, jam packed with butterflies and what felt like an entire assortment of other stuff, and he chuckled as he trotted over to the little fridge. It was a quick trip and Morty swung his arms carelessly as he walked, pulling out a bag of blood and returning to the couch in the same manner that he'd walked away from it. 

Morty plopped down beside Rick, playfully knocking their knees together, and he swiped a piece of bacon directly off the plate, tearing the corner of the plastic bag and dipping the fried pork inside before munching it without a second thought. He quickly groaned in taste bud bliss. The crispy strip was hot and greasy in the best kind of way and the teen grinned, stealing the other piece as well with a cackle. He stuffed it into his mouth before Rick could snatch it back and took a small gulp of blood while he chewed, flavoring the treat even more. 

"Mmmmmm, good call, Rick. Grease is a – a gift to mankind. I dunno if I could live without it, y’know? Immortal or not, I might’ve just withered away and died."

Rick swatted at Morty's hand with a little snarl as his last piece of bacon was stolen before going back to the rest of his breakfast, unwilling to be distracted from it for long. He finished off most of his burrito, leaving just a few bites, and then stole the bag of blood from Morty. After giving the burrito a liberal drizzle of blood he passed the bag back, holding out the last of the wrap to his grandson. 

"Go on, Morty. You should get to have some too. If the way you scarfed my bacon is any indicator you must be starving."

Morty chuckled at Rick's possessive attitude towards his bacon and gave him a playful little smirk. 

His eyes twinkled with amusement as the scientist drizzled the last few bites of his burrito in blood but Morty didn't comment. He merely followed the older man's lead and practically inhaled the food like the teenage, undead garbage disposal that he was, chomping it down messily with happy little sounds before taking a long drink of blood. He drained the bag a few seconds later and slumped back against the couch with a sigh, his dopey smile returning. 

"Man, that sure did hit the spot, Rick. Thanks." 

Morty lolled his head to the side looking over at Rick with a carefree grin. "I really am domesticated, Rick. I become a vampire and suddenly I'm turning into some Susie homemaker." 

He snickered.

"D-don't thank me, Morty, you made it," Rick said, taking another slow drink of his coffee and sighing happily. 

"I'm not complaining, I like you domesticated. We can trade off. I already know what I want to cook for you next." 

Rick smiled over at his grandson and then reached out for a lock of Morty's hair, tugging it gently. 

"Thank you for breakfast," he murmured, and then stood and stretched, gathering his two remaining burritos and his coffee mug and walking backwards towards the ladder. 

"Do you want one of these?" Rick gestured with the hand holding the burritos, "you seemed to like it almost as much as I did."

The little vampire practically bounced in his seat at the idea of Rick cooking for him again, thrilled by the mere possibility of them having the chance to bond again, but he contained himself. 

The overabundance of excitement didn’t take long to flee as Rick stood and started making his way to the entrance of the hatch. 

There was a tightness in his stomach, one that  told him just how little he wanted to be separated from Rick, but Morty covered it up with a shake of his head and a little smile. "Nah, Rick. I made those for you a-and the blood filled me up. Besides, I gotta clean th-the – I gotta clean the kitchen. If I eat I'll just be lazy and full." 

Morty stood from his spot and raced over to Rick with a blur of speed, crashing gently into the elder's frame and giving him a hug. 

Morty looked up at the genius through his lashes with a smile. "Have a good trip, Rick. $10 says that mom and dad get into a – a pissing contest before you're halfway to Pluto."

Rick nodded and tucked his home-cooked breakfast away, looking up in time to catch Morty in his arms and hug him back. He was slowly getting used to Morty hugging him. His defenses were all worn down when it came to his grandson, his twitchy reaction to physical contact well and truly exhausted by how often Morty was snuggling up to him recently. He could still feel the lingering curl of warmth inside his chest that had been there since he'd fallen asleep with the cuddly little vampire curled around him, the one that had only grown stronger since waking up to him still there. A smile came easily to his lips at the thought that he wanted to stay used to this. 

"If you wanted ten dollars you just had to ask, Morty," Rick joked, ruffling Morty's hair. 

"I'll text you when we're close. Put your sunscreen on." 

He squeezed Morty tighter for a moment and then pulled away and climbed nimbly up the ladder, coffee still in hand, and vanished through the hatch.

Morty's smile held right up until the moment Rick exited the the hatch. As soon as the older man was gone, Morty's expression fell and he let out a soft little sigh of resignation. 

Feeling sluggish, Morty puttered around the hatch for a few minutes until he was sure that Rick was actually gone, unwilling to watch Rick actually leave when he couldn’t go with and then he dragged himself into the kitchen to start putting everything away. While it’d started off as a mostly noble pursuit, the task ended up with Morty rinsing dishes and piling the things he didn't feel like dealing with in the sink just like any other teenager before slinking back to the basement. It felt empty without Rick. He'd been gone for less than twenty minutes and Morty already felt a level of codependency that was probably beyond unhealthy. 

It was like a cord in his gut, pulled taut and ready to snap, stretching further and further as the minutes dragged on. 

Morty groaned unhappily and dropped to the couch with a frown.

The vampire was desperate for a distraction. He made a split decision and ended up grabbing his phone, digging it out from the pocket of his hoodie and checking his messages. He'd been out of it for a few days and, up until a few moments ago, he’d mostly forgotten about the gadget. To be honest, Morty was feeling pretty grateful that it didn't get smashed during the attack, but the teen felt a sharp dip of unhappiness when he realized that the only notifications he had were spam messages in his email. The evidence of his lack of friends just made Morty miss Rick more and he quickly scrolled through his apps, intending to play something to pass the time. Maybe Temple Run. 

In no time at all, Morty’s brows pinched together in a moment of confusion. There was something on his phone that didn't belong. The icon was bright blue, marked by a large double N with a small M.E. beside it and the teen was quick to investigate, tapping the screen only to have his eyes go wide as the title popped up in full screen view. 

_ Netflix Nature: Multiverse Edition. _

 

* * *

__  
  


Rick owed Morty ten dollars, or he would have if he'd been stupid enough to take that bet. 

Beth and Jerry had not only managed to destroy the counselling centre, they’d also swung wildly from necking like teenagers in the back of his ship to screaming at one another well before they'd come anywhere close to Pluto. He texted Morty a few minutes before pulling in and parking in the garage, desperate to get out of the car and away from the two vicious harpies in the back. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

 

* * *

 

By the time Rick’s text popped up, Morty was absolutely oblivious to anything other than the new app on his phone. Normally he would have been all over a text message like white on rice, especially one from Rick, but that was  _ before. _

The app was absolutely incredible. As far as the teen could tell, it was similar to a much smaller version of their interdimensional cable box but it  _ only showed nature documentaries _ . There wasn't a single doubt in Morty's mind that Rick was the one to install it at one point or another and the teen was beyond ecstatic. Unlike most people his own age, Morty wasn't particularly attached to his phone. He didn't really have enough friends to be, but as he continued to scroll through the many options, looking at the various creatures displayed on the thumbnails and the descriptions, Morty felt his heartbeat that much  _ faster. _

It was perfect in absolutely every way. 

It encompassed everything Morty loved, showed just how well Rick knew him in such a short amount of time, and, despite believing that it wasn't possible, the teen felt his fondness for the older man grow even more. 

But Morty was suddenly pulled from his nerd cocoon when he heard a series of movements from the garage. 

Green eyes looked to the ceiling, listening closely, and he felt his already quickened pulse jump at the sounds of the ship doors closing. Morty couldn't tell if it was fear from his parents arrival or joy from Rick's return but, regardless, Morty didn't feel like moving. Rick was sure to be down soon, the vampire was sure, and the thought made him grin. He imagined all the complaining he was bound to hear, shaking his head at the thought, and he continued scrolling until he found a documentary about mermaids. Morty’s eyes went wide the moment as he caught sight of their angler lights and the elongated torsos of their bodies, immediately interested and no longer the least concerned with his parents.

 

* * *

 

Beth and Jerry had flip-flopped away from screaming at one another again and vanished into the house, practically running through the door. 

Rick didn't want to think about it. 

He was tired and irritated again and his wonderful morning was ruined already. He was irrationally frustrated that Morty was still hiding in the basement instead of coming up to save him from even just a moment of Beth and Jerry, and he was annoyed that he felt so clingy. Rick dug his flask out of his pocket and drained it before pulling the hatch in the garage open and sliding down the ladder. 

"Hey M-morty, I brought you some parents," he joked, his voice flatly sarcastic as he tucked his flask away and turned to look for his grandson.

The moment the hatch was opened, Morty looked up expectantly, eyes alight. His nose wrinkled a bit at the strong and pungent scent of alcohol, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he caught a glimpse of the flask, but then the teen's smile was back full force. 

"Hey Rick! Welcome home!"

He chuckled a bit at Rick's initial joke, dramatically scrunching up his features in distaste. "Jeez Rick, I take back what I said earlier if that's th-the – if that’s the present." 

He laughed, showing off a wide row of glistening teeth, two of them far sharper than the others, and he held up his phone happily. 

"I love the interdimensional Netflix, Rick! Best present ever!”

The boy quickly started to delve into the start of a ramble. 

“I mean, there's just s-so – so much stuff, Rick! I'm immortal a-and I don't think I could ever watch all of the documentaries on here! You're the best!!" 

Sitting up, Morty tossed his phone to the cushion in front of him in favor of speaking with Rick, his attention wholly and completely captured by the man's returned presence. 

"I can't believe there's mermaids, Rick! I mean, y'know, it makes sense. Alternate realities a-a-and all – and all that, but they're so cool! A-and fucking scary! They've got fae features and huge gills on their neck and webbed fingers and – and no nipples and super long torsos and translucent skin and a huge dorsal and  _ angler lights, Rick! _ They have fucking  _ angler lights _ and they can mimic any sound they hear, including human voices, and they drag people down to the depths and jeez, Rick! Have you ever seen one?!" 

Morty's eyes went wide. 

"Can you find a mermaid for me, Rick? I really want to see one. Oh! And blood! Can I have mermaid blood, Rick? Please? I'll make you coffee every morning for the rest of your life if I can have mermaid blood, Rick. Gotta check it off my bucket list!"

"Well shit,” said Rick, “y-you found it early. And I was looking forward to seeing your reaction, too." 

He rubbed his arm absentmindedly as his eyes trailed wistfully over Morty, still sat on the couch, and then forced himself to stop as he realized just how much he'd been looking forward to feeling Morty hug him again when he returned. 

He'd been gone for barely an hour, but he already felt closed off again. The fanciful idea that he might ever grow used to Morty's particular brand of physical attention felt like nothing more than that, just a passing fancy, and Rick crossed his arms, no longer sure what he wanted at all. But his morose thoughts faded as Morty gushed about what he'd been watching while he was gone. 

Rick tried his best to get excited in response. 

"S-s-  _ urp- _ sold, M-morty. I know a mermaid. They're not so much into the dragging into the depths thing anymore than humans are about chasing their prey down for hours until they wear them out, but the voice mimicking is spot on. She's in the music industry. We worked together. She did a lot for me in the past. I'm sure I can convince her to donate to the cause, unless you had your heart set on eating the _ homo erectus _ version of a mermaid." 

Rick dug through his pockets until he found his phone. 

"I-I can call her right now, Morty."

All grace and fluid limbs, Morty pushed himself off the couch with a pleased expression on his face and walked over to Rick. 

He tried to slip back into the past as he walked, moving slow and steady, trying to act as human as possible. He made the effort to lumber a bit and not be quite so.. unnatural as he stopped right in front of Rick, smiling but keeping his fangs carefully covered. 

"Jeez, Rick. You know _ everyone. _ I mean, I-I'm not like very surprised I guess b-b-but I forget that you used to be a rockstar sometimes. Can I have a signed copy of your CD, Rick?" 

Morty's eyes dragged somewhat subtly over Rick, just taking him in. The older man seemed different somehow, more like himself, and Morty wasn't sure if he was glad for that or not. He liked Rick as he was, no matter how closed off or offensive he was, but the teen was growing to love the soft and vulnerable side of Rick even more. He shouldn't have expected any less though, not really. He knew things would change with his parents’ return, and, apparently, Rick’s portrayal of himself was just one of those things. 

"Y-you really think she'd do that, Rick? And I mean, you don't gotta do it right now, Rick. Just, y'know, whenever you get around to it." 

Morty flashed one of those warm little half smiles that were generally reserved just for Rick before his eyes darted to the ladder, stomach feeling tight at the idea of seeing his parents.

Rick watched Morty move toward him and smiled sadly back at the restrained smile Morty gave him. It was a crime to hobble the light-footed, easy movements he'd so quickly become accustomed to seeing from the vampire, and Rick hated it. 

"No one uses CDs outside of Earth, Morty. We only released a few dozen of them, plus tapes and records, and that was only because I'm from a quirky, Luddite planet. It was a publicity stunt.” He eased back a step from Morty as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I saw one in a pawn shop a couple years ago for something disgusting like 9000 Flurbos, and they didn't even know how to play it.

"I-I-If you're serious ask me again and I'll get you a copy of our music. A-and now's fine, she never answers her phone." 

Rick turned aside and dialed a number, straightening out of his tired stance and tucking one hand casually into his pocket as the call connected and he started to speak, "El, baby, it's Rick. Call me back, I want to owe you a favour." 

He tucked the phone away and slouched against the ladder once he was finished, looking Morty over closely. 

"There's no use putting it off, Morty. Your parents should be down in–" a huff of laughter escaped Rick before he kept speaking, "probably ten minutes. Your present isn't really that fancy though, M-morty. It's just a shittier, restricted version of the interdimensional cable box. I figured you'd probably never find any of the nature shows without my help, n-not if you hadn't yet. But we can still watch all that stuff upstairs."

 

* * *

 

The vampire bristled a tiny bit, the dark, scaly claws of possessive jealousy gripping his heart like a vice as Rick referred to somebody else as baby. It instantly put the younger man on edge and he could feel the edges of his control slipping but the teen stubbornly shook it off, reminding himself that those thoughts didn't belong. Rick didn't belong to him and Morty needed to get out of that mindset before it caused any lasting damage. 

It wasn't difficult to think about other things though, not really, especially with the knowledge that he'd finally get to hear his grandfather's near fabled band. On the other side of that coin, though, Morty found himself groaning internally at the thought of having to go up and see his parents. The reason for Rick’s laughter went right over the brunet’s head and his brows pulled together in a brief look of confusion over what was, apparently, some sort of joke. Morty just shrugged it off though, immersing himself in the rest of Rick’s statement and grinning like a loon at the prospect of continuing on with his documentaries upstairs.

"Gee, Rick! That's so cool. You sure do know how to – how to make a boy feel special." he giggled, incisors still exposed before quickly suppressing the grin, closing his mouth. "Oops. Gonna have to be careful of that." 

Morty felt less sunny than he had in a good number of days. He didn't want to go upstairs, but Rick was right. He couldn't hide from them forever. 

"Wanna go watch Ball Fondlers?"

 

* * *

 

Rick grinned back at Morty, thinking it was well worth owing a favour if it made Morty smile at him like that, but then watched in burgeoning disappointment as Morty suppressed the expression. He scowled and looked away, understanding his grandson's reasoning but despising it and the necessity of it. He wanted Morty to just let him tell their family to fuck off and accept the vampire the way he was. 

He'd take Beth's anger and disappointment if it meant that Morty wouldn't ever need to debase himself by pretending to be less than he was. And the way Morty was acting, his trepidation and fear at his parent's return, was getting Rick's hackles up, leaving him full of an impotent frustration and need to fix it that was threatening to boil over. But there was nothing he was allowed to do. Morty didn't want them to know, and Rick had to respect that and just do what he could to make the vampire know that he accepted him exactly the way he was. He sighed, frustrated, and rubbed at his temple. 

"Y-yeah, fine, okay," he said, turning away and walking over to the kitchenette to dig through the lower shelves for a black bottle that he deftly refilled his flask from before turning back to look Morty over morosely. 

"Or we could just not," he blurted, looking away and letting out a sharp breath. 

He felt like he was driving Morty into a torture chamber though, with the way the boy looked right now. What the fuck did he care if they went up there and saw the rest of the family? Rick was an expert at avoiding things he didn't want to do. They didn't need to do shit if Morty didn't want to. Rick took a drink straight from the bottle he was still holding before putting it away and tucking his flask into his pocket, avoiding looking at Morty. It was his fault Morty was afraid to see his family. 

It was his fault Morty felt like he needed to hide.

* * *

 

As Rick turned away and moved into the kitchenette, rooting around for something only to refill his flask a moment later, Morty clenched his fists. 

The disgusting scent of alien liquor filled his senses. It reminded him more of paint thinner or some chemical he'd find under the kitchen sink than anything somebody would want to drink and even Rick’s claim that they didn’t need to go upstairs immediately was unable to quell his negative thoughts. The vampire dug his nails into the palm of his hand. The unconscious action had him creating crescent moons under the pressure, drawing blood a second later as he watched Rick take a drink straight from the black container. His vampirism healed the wounds as fast as he could create them, making the pain sharp and biting with every wave of irritation that passed through the teen's body, but he relished it. It was easier to focus on that rather than Rick's actions or what they said about how the man was feeling. 

_ That fucking flask. _

It was like a wickedly curved thorn straight into the part of his brain that was responsible for negative emotion. Morty's lips thinned as he forced himself not to speak and say something nasty or, even worse, passive aggressive about Rick's drinking. 

Morty turned to climb up the ladder but, when he remembered Rick's hastily spoken statement about not needing to go upstairs, he turned back towards the older man with one hand still on the rungs. He took in the near defensive straightness of Rick’s spine, let his eyes roam over the tense muscles of his back, and the vampire let go of his blustering thoughts in favor of a fond smile. 

Sometimes, Rick was such an easy book to read. And maybe being away from their family for just a little longer would make Rick less eager to drown his unpleasant feelings in alcohol. 

"Ball Fondlers it is." 

Losing the purposefully crafted stiffness in his muscles, Morty glided over to the couch and plopped down rather heavily onto it. He scooped up the remote with ease and started flicking through the ridiculous amount of channels with inhuman speed, searching for the show. It felt truly inhuman, the way his hypersensitive gaze scanned the images projected in front of him, recognizing and rejecting each one before moving on in a fraction of a second while the other half of his brain was free to worry and fret, leaving Morty more than a bit frazzled. 

He felt slightly uncomfortable with his thoughts and the way they were making him feel. Because of that, Morty did something he only did in calm situations of extreme stress when he was alone: Morty flipped himself upside down. 

At the current moment he honestly didn't care what Rick thought, and he didn't really assume the older man would have anything to say about it, so Morty got comfortable as he continued to flick through hundreds of channels. The teen’s legs were straight against the back of the couch, heels resting on the metal wall, and Morty let his head drop off the edge of the couch with ease, his neck resting on the edge's curve. Morty sighed happily. The strange position acted as a quick relief therapeutic coping method, calming the rush of his thoughts and allowing him to think clearly as he finally found the channel he was looking for. He turned it up a bit and let the remote fall to the floor, his arms hanging heavily over the end of the couch.

 

* * *

  
  


Rick glanced up carefully, and he sighed and relaxed as Morty did, the tension running out of him as he watched Morty glide across the room. The boy wasn't hiding anymore, and it eased the tight ball of guilt inside of Rick to see it. He could breathe easy again now that Morty didn't look like Rick was sending him to the gallows, and the tension around his eyes eased as he watched the vampire flip himself over on the couch and kick his legs up the wall. That was what he wanted: Morty relaxed and comfortable and unselfconscious. 

Rick wandered over to the couch, briefly imagining flopping down and throwing his legs up over Morty's chest or pushing his grandson’s legs over playfully. But he just sat down instead, leaving almost a cushion’s worth of space between them, and leaned up against the arm of the couch, one leg curled up underneath himself. The easy camaraderie from last night and this morning was lost to him. But at least Morty didn't seem so unhappy anymore.

 

* * *

  
  


Morty’s mood rose even further when he caught sight of Rick walking back over. The older man was obviously intending to watch TV with him, something that made Morty smile at how pleased that made him, but the smile adorning his lips dimmed when Rick sat so far away. 

It wasn't necessarily out of character for his grandpa. Rick tended to put space between himself and everyone around him, no matter where he was, like it was so ingrained in his behavior that he didn’t even think about it anymore, but it felt out of place now. With how close they'd become, even after just a few days, Morty felt physically struck by the cushion between them and he wanted to rectify it immediately. However, after a somewhat subtle glance over towards Rick, Morty decided that probably wasn't the best option. 

He could smell the alcohol tainting Rick's scent. Not only that, he could also see the edge of weariness on the scientist's features from his trip. 

The vampire deflated internally. 

He'd hoped that the burritos would smooth the edges of whatever irritation Rick felt over his journey with his bickering parents but it seemed that wasn't in the cards. 

Morty tried to focus on the show, he really did, but every inch of space between them felt like a canyon. The gap existed as something he couldn't cast from his mind or stop being unaware of. It was distracting as hell, but Morty wasn't a child. He wasn't a frightened little boy that needed to cling to Rick, so the teen let it be, idly hoping that a rip in space and time would randomly occur and eat up the cushion and part of the couch, leaving things like they had been before Rick left.

Rick stared blankly at the television, feeling antsy and trapped and dissatisfied. He shouldn't want Morty all to himself. He  _ did _ want Morty to feel accepted by his parents and sister, but he also wanted to rewind time to this morning or last night, when the reality of the world wasn't weighing him down and encroaching on the bubble of privacy it had felt like he and Morty had had until now. 

Rick remembered the long, long summer day when he and Morty and Summer had frozen time  – those wonderful months of freedom. They'd had all the time in the world to simply enjoy themselves. He'd been happy then, but not nearly as happy as he'd been for the past couple days. Morty was right about feeling more alive since he'd risen. Rick felt it too. 

Or, he had. But now he felt more like he'd been in a dream. And now he was being crushed by the reality of his overindulgence with Morty. Because he'd developed feelings he simply couldn't allow himself to have for the boy during that time as well, and if he thought his little girl would be upset about his failure to protect Morty from becoming a vampire he certainly couldn't doubt how she'd feel if she knew what else he'd done wrong, even if it was only in his head. 

He'd let Morty get too close, too far into the rotten core of himself, and now he had to give the boy back to the life he'd had before he'd died. He had to help him do that.. and then he had to go back to lonely days waiting for Morty to come home and occasional adventures when he could drag the boy away from his real life. The thought was enough to drive him to drink.. So he did, pulling out his flask and throwing back a shot with the ease of decades of practice. 

_ The honeymoon's over, Sanchez. Time to go back to the real world. _

 

* * *

 

The tension surrounding them was palpable. 

For the last few days, Morty had caught himself thinking more and more about how comfortable he was with Rick. He’d thought about how Rick's presence was more like home than any location seemed to be but, sitting next to his companion on the couch as his emotions became more and more negative, souring the room and making it nearly hard to breathe through the harsh scents, Morty couldn't help but to think that he didn't feel very comfortable at all. 

He could see the metaphorical rain cloud lingering over the genius' head, growing darker and more bleak, threatening to thunder and downpour, and Morty didn't like that one bit. But when Rick pulled his flask from the inner pocket of his lab coat, Morty felt something inside of him break. 

In the past number of days, Rick had rarely drank from the thing. Rarely drank period. He seemed content around the vampire, not needing the crutch to distract him from his own mind, and the fact that Rick was sitting less than two feet away from him and drinking from that  _ god forsaken flask _ made Morty want to scream and cry all at once. 

Rage it seemed, won out over the latter and suddenly Morty was beyond angry, glaring holes into the projector.

Why did his family always have to fuck everything up? Why did they have to ruin the blossoming good in his life? Why did his parents have to make Rick so miserable that he couldn't even be happy around the vampire when it was just the two of them? But as Morty looked over at Rick, watching him put the flask away, he caught sight of something else. Something that gave him an idea. 

_ Rick's portal gun. _

Well. If they couldn't be happy in the hatch, then they were gonna be happy somewhere else, because Morty refused to feel at ends with Rick. He refused to sit upside down, watching Ball Fondlers while Rick stewed in his own unhappiness when Morty knew that he could make it better. 

Glancing over at Rick from the corner of his eye, the immortal creature eyed his grandpa. His attention was subtle and predatory, watching Rick’s every move, making note of every flex of his muscles, the shift of his eyes and the depth of his focus on their show, and the teen bided his time. He waited patiently for the perfect moment, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was launching himself at Rick. He slammed into his grandpa from the side as gently as he could and tackled the older man down to the couch before holding him tight, protecting Rick in the strong cage of his arms as he rolled them onto the floor. 

Morty grunted as he took the brunt of the impact but that didn’t stop him from trying to get his hand inside of Rick's coat, digging for his gun.

 

* * *

 

Rick was yanked out of his despondent thoughts by a small, powerful body crashing into him. 

"F-fucking hell!" he yelped, his heart racing as he suddenly found himself wrapped up tightly in Morty's arms and tumbling to the floor. His breath caught and his pupils blew wide as they hit the ground and he felt the controlled way Morty protected him from the worst of the impact. 

But in the next instant Rick was grinning like an idiot as he started to squirm. Feeling Morty's hands start to wriggle their way under his clothes was almost enough to throw him off, making him stutter to a halt for a shocked second, but Rick kicked his mind forcefully out of the gutter in the next one, just writhing all the harder to make up for the moment of hesitation. He twisted and kicked. He jerked and twitched. And he did his best to push at Morty's face and grab at his wrists, generally being as much of a hindrance as he could to someone who was infinitely more powerful than he was.

"Wh-wh-what are you d-d-doing, Morty?" Rick stuttered, voice tight and full of surprised laughter. His eyes were wide, with barely a twinge of the choking misery of a moment ago lingering in the depths of them as he stared up at Morty from underneath him, struggling to keep the vampire's hands to himself. 

But the vampire in question wasn't having any of that. 

Morty laughed wholeheartedly against Rick and broke his wrists from the man's grasp with ease, tangling their legs together so that the scientist couldn't escape from him. 

“What does it look like I'm doing, Rick? I'm distracting you!" 

As the brunet spoke and Rick's attention was focused on his words, Morty dove right back into his quest. He shoved his hands into Rick's pockets, trying to find the portal gun and yelping when he accidentally stabbed his finger on something sharp, but it wasn't a deterrent in the least. He could smell the excitement pouring off Rick, the negativity receding, and he was taking full advantage of it before an incredibly tempting idea burst across his thought process. 

Morty suddenly paused in his search for the gun, both hands going to Rick's sides, and he tickled the man with absolutely everything he had.

 

* * *

 

Rick yanked on the lapels of his jacket after Morty pulled his hands out of his grip with stunning adroitness. He jerked the fabric around, trying to make whatever Morty was trying to do more difficult, wriggling uselessly, feeling the way Morty ensnared his legs and pinned him in place so deftly, and  _ loving _ it. 

He opened his mouth, and those words were on the tip of his tongue. They were going to be something embarrassingly sappy about how much he was in awe of his grandson's new strength, something to bolster the young man's confidence before Morty tucked away his new skills and pretended like they were something to be ashamed of. But before they could escape Rick felt the vampire freeze and then move with predatory intent to dig his fingertips into his sides. 

A gasp of air escaped him instead, ending in a breathless whine and his eyes slammed shut before a quiver ran through him and he started to squirm harder, gasping in a breath and then releasing it in a long choked giggle. His whole face flushed red with embarrassment as he lost it, laughing and thoughtlessly trying to struggle away, no method to his movements at all anymore. 

"M-m-m-mm.. mohh.. shit.. Morty, st-st-stop!" he managed to get out through his panting mirth, tears of laughter leaking from his tightly closed eyes.

Morty straddled Rick's waist and absolutely demolished him with quick, nimble fingers. The teen was merciless as he tickled up and down Rick's sides, across his ribs, and honestly anywhere that he could reach. His drive was only furthered by the way Rick tried so obviously to hide it, squirming to little avail before losing it so completely. 

The vampire grinned down at his companion, giggling at the older man and pushing his movements even faster. Morty started tickling Rick at vampiric speeds, but, after a short time, when Rick was utterly distracted and unable to defend himself in anyway, the teen finally shoved his hands back into Rick’s lab coat and cried victoriously as his fingertips met the handle of Rick's portal gun on the first try. 

In the next second Morty was untangling himself from Rick and pulling away from his grandpa in a flurry of motion. He only had a few seconds before Rick regained his composure and Morty tried to make the best of them. He quickly dialed in the only coordinates other than home that he knew, the ones that would lead the pair to a forest completely devoid of human life. He remembered the place being covered with snow when he was there. He wasn’t sure if it’d still be that way, since it’d been a while since their last visit but, even if it was summer, Morty was still excited. The place was beautiful, covered in blue trees, neon plants, and striking pink clouds. It was one of the only dimensions that Morty could remember going to where he and Rick didn't end up having to run for their lives. He'd fallen in love with it the moment he saw the place. 

Dialing in the coordinates, the brunet produced an eerie, lime green portal on the wall of the hatch. He grinned wickedly at Rick, his eyes full of mischief, and yelled, "Catch me if you can, Rick!" before jumping inside. 

 

* * *

Rick was a panting, blushing, worn-out mess when Morty finally relented – entirely unable, or maybe just unwilling, to move a muscle beyond gasping to catch his breath as Morty plundered his jacket and snatched up his portal gun. Instead, he just lay and watched from his splayed out position on the floor as the triumphant little vampire made use of his hard-earned prize. Instead he just rolled to his hands and knees, panting, as Morty shot off a portal, throwing a taunt over his shoulder as he leapt through.

Then Rick scrambled to his feet with an incredulous, breathless laugh and dove right through the portal after Morty just before it snapped closed behind him, leaving an empty room.. and a forgotten flask laying where it had fallen, unnoticed, in the middle of the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm going to address a question we got in a comment here because after showing my overly complex response to Clair she thought that it would be good for everyone to see. 
> 
> So! Morty's age. First of all, he's aged up and second of all, we're writing in the middle of canon.. wtf, right? That doesn't make sense. Summer should be out of school and she's not because she goes there to bitch about vampires.
> 
> Okay, lemme start by saying that Rick and Morty is a cartoon where time doesn't matter and the characters don't age. Morty is going to be 14 and in highschool forever because that highschool is a great set and they're not going to give that up. Also, fans have been collectively guessing at Rick's age based on random numbers being called out by the show like it's a bingo game since season 1. So anything I say is just handwavey bullshit to try and justify making us (and by us I mean myself since I won't speak for Clair) comfortable by aging Morty up while still writing a fic within the boundaries of the show's current continuity.
> 
> Nevertheless, here's a bullshit handwavey explanation:  
> Morty's 14, Summer, 17. That means Morty is likely in grade 9, and Summer would be in grade 12. That's difficult. Now we could just fail her, she chooses to get C's after all, but let's not. Instead let's fuck with things by saying Summer is one of those unlucky January babies. The kids that are born right on the edge of the age line and are always the oldest in their year. Sucks for you, grade 11 Summer. We're in season 2 so we can just bump things forward and say they're in grade 10/12 now. 
> 
> Unfortunately, Claire's Morty is a Libra like her, which puts his birthday near the beginning of the school year. That means we can't, conceivably, say that he aged up after Anatomy Park, which happened before Christmas, when he says that he's 14. Bummer. Oh well, Morty's 15.
> 
> Luckily, Anatomy Park tells us something else. Three episodes managed to take us all the way to Christmas. There's a lot of time in between episodes. That, and they live somewhere where the animators don't need to draw snow or keep track of this shit. So even if there's not a standard amount of time between episodes it's not unreasonable to assume that more than a year passes during a season. Table that though.
> 
> Think Rick Potion no.9 first. Dimension hopping is a great excuse for handwavey shit. They wanted an Earth that was the same as theirs. But that just means they needed a family that were the same. And Rick is pretty loose with what matters to him. So, fuck it, it's all the same except Morty's back in grade 9 again. Rick just didn't notice/care, and Morty needed the help anyway and just kept quiet about it. Boom. Another year. 16. And, fyi, we're in the end of April in our fic here so he's.. 5 months from his 17th birthday.
> 
> Now back to casual timeline advances. Don't forget that Rick, Morty and Summer froze time for 6 months. That's 6 more months on Morty's age. Caveat though: we need to differentiate between Morty's real age and the age his family thinks he is. 
> 
> Assumed age: 15y 7m  
> Real age: 17y 1m
> 
> Where else did the show jump time? The teeny verse. Rick hadn't seen Morty in months. How many? Who knows, let's not push. Let's just grab another 6.
> 
> Real age: 17y 7m
> 
> Great, almost 18.. But now I'm all out of canon physical time skips, so let's muddy those waters. Lawnmower Dog is the place to look for that. They were in that dream for a whole year, and while Morty's physical body didn't age, since it was busy shitting itself, his mind was being kept as Snuffles' pet. That's a year more of experience, albeit weird experience. They don't exactly live normal lives, though. 
> 
> Final tally:  
> Assumed age: 15y 7m  
> Physical age: 17y 7m  
> Mental age: 18y 7m
> 
> And hey, if you don't like me stealing a year during Rick Potion no.9, cool, you don't have to accept that idea specifically. Grab another half a year somewhere, and tell me how! Disagree with my methodology. But if you don't like the fact that we aged Morty up then, respectfully, please keep it to yourself. This is just an explanation for something I needed in order to be comfortable writing this fic. It's an involved story and Rick's emotions are explored very deeply, and I won't apologize for making sure I can be comfortable doing that. We'll still be dealing with age issues, this isn't an excuse to ignore that. Rick is still decades older than Morty. But since, ultimately, they're going to end up together, I wanted the imaginary character that my imaginary character is going to end up with to be 18+. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Tldr: Morty's 18+ because sci-fi handwavey bullshit, but his family thinks he's younger than he is because all that sci-fi shit tends to happen on adventures. If you don't like it please don't tell us, just roll your eyes and keep reading or move on, whatever makes you comfortable.
> 
> -Sqk


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